To You in the Deep Blue Sea
by bucklebunny
Summary: When Nel is the only one who does not believe Albel's mysterious disappearance to be a suicide, she decides to find him herself... something is awakening in them both. THIS STORY IS A FCKING PHOENIX AND ITS RISING BACK UP, FOOLS! ALNEL.
1. Deep Blue

**To You in the Deep Blue Sea…**

_**Deep Blue**_

Sinking…

The light cast ever-shifting patterns on his skin… falling… looking up at the constant movement of the barrier, the surface… he would never break it. He was too deep.

Sinking…

'It's ok,' he thought… 'Everyone will be happier now… they… nnn-'

He let out a gasp as water began to force itself down his throat. He tore at his throat with one hand, trying to reach upward with the other… only to remember it was no longer there.

No love left, no purpose left… a morbid smile flickered on his face as he choked. Soon no life would be left either…

He had always been cold… emotionally, physically, literally… as his skin grew icy he could feel his lack of heat… he must have been warmer than he thought once…

The water moved out of the way of his decent and filled in his empty space—the emptiness that he left. He left it everywhere, in everyone he touched. He couldn't help it. It was better than leaving something only to have it taken away suddenly… nothing in the first place couldn't create a vacuum.

That's the way it was… his heart was in a vacuum. He had failed. Every day he felt the sorrow; the sorrow that took his breath away as the memories hit him again.

It was sickly appropriate that he could not reach out with his charred, monstrous lack of arm…

'Hmm… appropriate for a monster like me…'

There was no air left. He knew it was time… time to go. He looked searchingly up at the fading rays of light on the surface. A final thought… that would be appropriate. Maybe he deserved one final goodbye… maybe…

'I… I'm sorry. I'm sorry to you… to you in the deep blue sea…'

No Albel Nox… nowhere in the world…

* * *

"Albel's dead. He killed himself."

Those words still rang in Nel's ears as she strode purposely through the snow.

'No. That cannot be right…'

Fayt was running after her. "Nel! Please come back! Cliff wasn't thinking!" Cliff was moaning and holding his face behind Fayt, collapsed by the caravan. Cliff, being himself, had messed up and mentioned why they had been sent to bring the woman to the castle in Airyglyph. After his slip of the tongue, Nel promptly slapped him. Once Nel had stormed off, Clair followed up with another swift slap.

Nel focused on plodding on through the thick snow as Fayt continued to buzz around her… Nel liked Fayt, but in this case she could not bear to sit and listen to his reassurances when the truth was out there.

In her heart, Nel knew it was out there.

Albel would never kill himself. True, he was an extreme person, one who was prone to depression… one who was known for doing stupid things in the moment. However, more than that, Albel was one who hated weakness, especially when others saw it in him. He would never be able to kill himself—"the ultimate weakness", as Albel had told her before.

…Of course, when he had told her that, it had been in insult form, as was everything that came out of Albel's mouth.

Still, Nel knew those words could have been meant for himself rather than his enemy…

* * *

She sat on the twisted metal bench, her elbows balanced on her knees, her chin perched on her hands. Gemity… it was a town constructed for the purpose of enjoyment, yet Nel felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life.

Well, not more than she ever had in her _life_, but…

Nel Zelpher did not like to show weakness… and she was feeling very weak at this point in the journey. She knew Elicoor… on her own planet, she liked to think she was crucial. Yet, in this new world, everything needed explaining. Everything was so different.

Oh, yea. And finding out she wasn't real. That sucked too.

In everything she had done, she had been steadfast, resolute—maybe even in the extreme. But now she could not help but question everything; her home, her God, herself. Nel would never allow herself to admit it, but…

She felt alone.

She _was_ alone.

Her universe was in the process of being destroyed—deleted, she should say… she could very well be the last of the Aquarians, the last of the Elicoordians, even.

Well, except for Albel, but it's not like _he_ would ever find someone willing to pass on his genes…

It's not that she hated Albel, more that… she _disliked_-slash-borderline-hated him.

No. She was being too harsh.

He was… better than she expected, at least when he wasn't constantly teasing her. He was _slightly_ useful… he didn't call her "maggot" or "worm" or even "fool" like the others… but he _did_ call her "woman", a name which, as an avid feminist, Nel hated. He had, on occasion, called her "Zelpher", which was always a welcome change, but…

In truth, he seemed to have some level of respect for Nel. They were, after all, the only Elicoordians in this unfamiliar world, and she had bested him in battle multiple times. Albel mostly left her alone, only nodding his head to acknowledge her presence occasionally. He tended to be patronizing when he did talk to her, but considering that they had been fighting each other for survival only months ago, he was downright kind.

'Well… THAT'S going a little too far…'

The colorful neon lights blurred as Nel's eyes glazed over, he pupils reacting only to the thoughts playing in her head for which sight was not necessary…

Time was so still in Gemity.

But of course, it was eventually shattered, as everything seemed to be in Nel's world…

The possibly-last-remaining-Airglyphian plopped himself next to the redhead on her lonely bench. He was slurping a red popsicle obnoxiously, making sure to get Nel's attention without directly showing it was his intention.

Zelpher's eyes snapped back to attention, before rolling in a complete circle.

Two could play this game.

Nel did not move a muscle, refusing to acknowledge the skinny twit sitting beside her. One long drag on his popsicle later, Nox still wasn't getting the reaction he had envisioned from his most recent hobby. Minutes later, both foreigners still held their positions, though the annoyance level for each was significantly higher. Finally, Albel sighed, not wanting to waste his 80-fol popsicle further.

"Well, just don't kill yourself. I know you're not a strong person, but suicide is the ultimate weakness." Albel's words glided off his lips as smoothly as did all his _witty_ little comments.

Nel stifled her anger, retaliating calmly, "It's good to reassure yourself, Albel, but in the future please don't bring me into your little masochistic rant."

The young man let out a sarcastic "ha". "You forget, Zelpher, I'm not the weak one."

Her eyebrow twitched.

"Oh really? I forget, I only beat you… how many times?"

Albel snorted and opened his mouth, looking at Nel for the first time in the conversation. His glance turned into a stare. Refusing to give in and meet his eyes, Nel responded by staring in turn at his popsicle. His legs were spread apart and his knees bent in a ninety-degree angle, his arms board-straight as his elbows rested on his knees. His popsicle stuck out of his clammy, thin fingers lower than bench-seat-level. Nel watched his popsicle drip, the artificial red dissolving in the puddles on the cement.

They sat like that for a while. As Nel watched the cold sweet drip down her former-enemy's fingers without a response from the man in question, Nel tried to think of something to say.

"It… I… This world just emanates isolation. I don't understand why they think all this technology is worth it, how they prefer it to somewhere like Elicoor."

Albel Nox turned his head, looking out at the neon lights of the Game Sector. He breathed his words. "You're just not used to it…" after a moment, he added, "at least there's not so much fucking snow."

Nel laughed a little. "I guess I'm not used to that either… snow…"

Albel cocked an eyebrow. "Not in THOSE clothes, you aren't."

"Like you can talk," Nel quickly retorted, eyes narrowing. Albel just glanced at her as the corners of his lips flicked quickly upward. The woman's defensive expression quickly dissolved off her face.

"Albel…"

She couldn't find the words to say… Albel had always been in isolation. As would Nel have been, if the Lasbards had not been around…

"We… we're very similar," Albel continued to stare forward as she attempted to form her words.

"I… guess… I just… I don't hate you, Albel."

Nox looked at her out of the corner of his eye as Nel turned her eyes towards the light. If she hadn't turned, she would have been able to see Albel's unbelieving, incredulous smile. It was slight, but all the same…

"Here." He said it briskly, forcing his half-eaten, melting popsicle into Nel's warm hands. Taking advantage of her speechless shock, Albel spoke in another order.

"Don't kill yourself."

With that, he turned and strode towards the Battle Arena, licking the stickiness off his fingers.

"Gee, thanks." Nel muttered in a monotone as she glared at the "gift". She looked at it for several more moments before she was forced to bite it to keep the thing from melting all over her.

* * *

Nel Zelpher flung open the doors to the King of Airyglyph's thrown room. Before her time on other planets, Nel would have looked forward to this day as the fall of the Airglyphian Empire, but today, as absurd as it seemed, the woman only prayed for Albel the Wicked's health.

"Your Majesty…!" she exclaimed as collapsed on the ground. She had moved the rest of the way through the mountains on foot and as fast as she could.

The King only looked at her and shook his head.

"I am sorry, Ms. Zelpher… we… we found a self-made grave on the ledge. It is on a cliff… and below it… is the sea…" even the King's voice wobbled as he struggled to keep his composure.

"No. No, this is not right. Albel would never do something like that… tell me everything that happened… I need all the details so I can FIND HIM!!!" Nel's voice grew louder and louder.

"He… yesterday, he returned from the secret passage under the castle… there was supposed to be some sort of beast in the depths of the dungeon, but nearly all of Albel's small force was killed… Albel was fine, only a few scratches, but he was white as an Executioner… he was apparently throwing a fit in his room last night, so no one wanted to go in and check on him, but this morning we found his room in tatters, and…"

The King could not finish, only cover his face with his hand. An attendant filled in the King's words, continuing "we found his sword and claw placed on the cliff, with a crudely carved tombstone… he must have jumped into the water and…"

Nel did not need to hear anymore as she raced out of the castle, running alongside the edge of the cliffs before she came upon the place… a protruding overlook sheltered by one tree. The Crimson Scourge was stabbed into the ground, and just as His Majesty had said, his claw lay in the snow beneath the tree. In its trunk, the tree bore the memory of Albel Nox…

Albel Nox

xxxx-xxxx

She ran her fingers along the inscription… it was carved hastily and carelessly… just as Albel would have done. The sword… the claw… he would never just leave them. He…

Nel ran towards the edge of the cliff, ready to search the water for Albel with the same urgency as if she had seen him fall only moments ago. Only a strong arm circled around her waist stopped the redhead from diving.

Cliff dragged the struggling woman back as Fayt and Mirage, just now running to Cliff's side, helped to hold her down.

Nel could only scream "NOOO!" as they held her down, letting her fight away all of her energy until she was limp enough to be carried back to the castle.

* * *

_Sinking… _

_The light cast ever-shifting patterns on her skin… falling… looking up at the constant movement of the barrier, the surface… she would never break it. She was too deep._

_Sinking…_

It was early in the morning when Nel woke up. She found herself in a flowing white nightgown between silk sheets and encased in an intricately carved, mahogany bed. The sheets constricted her—she felt as if she were in a coffin. The woman kicked and struggled against the sheets until they came free and the cold breeze of the early morning swept across her skin. Wasting no time, Nel pulled on her combat boots and tied up her nightgown so that it hit mid-thigh (she never liked it when her clothes constricted her). Albel would laugh at her, she thought, but he would have to deal with her clothes if she was going to save him.

Calling upon all her stealth, the Crimson Blade crept carefully out of her room. The door dared not make a single creak under her powerful caress. It was still dark, and no one was awake that Nel could tell. All the same, this_was_ Castle Airyglyph, so Nel was sure that there must be guards stationed somewhere.

Quietly, Nel made her way to Albel's chamber. She knew very well where it was, though she had never been inside it. As she reached the door, she quickly unlocked it with a twisted pin she has tucked in her shoe. She let herself into the darkness…

Nel could only make out bits of torn flowing fabric, catching what little light shown through the window as they drifted in the air. She felt around the surface of what felt like Albel's nightstand for matches, a candle, anything. Unable to grasp anything useful, she stumbled over to a dark shadow—what Nel guessed to be a desk—where she found a crumpled package of matches. Striking one, Nel used the small flame to locate a candle, fallen out of its stand and scattered on the ground. Nel placed the twisted wax back into its holder and lit it, finally looking around the lair of her colleague and enemy.

The room was a total mess, as the King had insinuated. The white curtains over the single sliver of window were torn, as were the hangings of Albel's huge and most likely expensive bed. What was left of the pillows was scattered to every corner of the room. The comforter had half-fallen out of the window, ice slowly crawling up it into the room. The chair to Albel's desk was splintered, and one leg had been forced into the wall. Ink pooled across the surface of the desk and slowly dripped onto the floor rhythmically. The closet had not been spared, as its torn and dirtied contents littered the floor.

Albel definitely knew how to throw a hissy fit.

Nel sighed, pulling the comforter from the window, trying to shake the ice from it. As she moved to set it on the bed, she noticed the splatters of blood on the sheets. Using the pin to start the rip, Nel tore around the dark red liquid, rolling it up and sticking it in her shoe with the tool. Continuing her search, Nel noticed and empty photo frame on the bedside table, as well as a rectangle on the wall that was much less faded than the rest.

'Must have been where Albel hung his map…' Nel thought, 'so he MUST be alive! He took it with him!'

All of a sudden, a gust of freezing air blew through the unprotected window and hit Nel's back, causing her to straighten up and shudder, the little hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The candle dropped and rolled onto the thick carpet. Not losing a moment, Nel stomped it out to prevent a fire. In the cold silence, Nel looked around the room again, her eyes more accustomed to the dark. It was a mess, true, but she could tell that when clean, Albel's room contained nothing but necessities. It was strange—he was captain of the Black Brigade, son of Glou Nox, and one of those most respected by the King. He could afford anything he wanted. Yet, the nice furniture was all there was… there was nothing of Albel's but his clothes and equipment, all stuffed in the closet, and a couple of books laying on the desk.

Nel pulled the cold comforter around herself, hoping it would warm up with her body heat and protect her from the wind. She wandered towards the desk, letting one of her hands graze one of the books' surface. Bringing them close to her face, Nel read each of the titles in turn; The Art of the Blade, A History of Conflict: Greeton and Gaitte,Harnessing Dreams: a Guide to Resolving the Unconscious, andThe Year of Red.

The last two titles took Nel aback. She knew Albel's nightmares were bad, had heard him scream and writhe in his sleep on their journey. Even as his enemy, Nel could never help but comfort him when it began, either by finding an excuse to wake him or speaking to him carefully and stroking his hair. Of course, she never let anyone catch her, and it's not like she cared of Albel or whatever the hell he was dreaming about. Nel just had a big heart, and it pained her to see another human in so much pain. And he had been her comrade, after all. They fought side by side, despite their different countries, upbringings, morals.

'See? No need for me to be embarrassed… it means nothing…' she repeated like a mantra in her head.

It was the last title that surprised Nel the most. The Year of Red was a book she herself had read as a teenager. It was a fantastical, romantic story—something Nel would have thought to disgust Albel—about a boy and girl separated in their youth who try to find each other again in a war-torn country. Details of the plot came flooding back to the young woman, as she smiled down at the dirty, worn cover. Opening it, Nel noticed it belonged to the library… well, ONCE it had. It had been checked out nearly ten years ago, and by the looks of it, never returned. Now _that_ sounded more like the Albel she knew—stealing books from libraries. As she read through the first page of the story, Nel was hit by a wave of nostalgia…

_The young boy looked nervously up at his companion, asking sheepishly once again, "will you stay with me… forever?" The little girl smiled back toothily, taking his hands in hers. "Of course, silly! You never had to ask!"_

_How were they to know what would happen? They could not know that their city of Alabaster would be attacked, that they would be separated and flung to different ends of the world. But for that summer evening, with the sun blazing orange on the horizon, the fantasies of their childhood would live, if only for one day._

Nel stopped reading. 'This story is even cornier than I remembered!' she could not help but think, 'And Albel read this…? Not only that, but liked it enough to steal it for ten years from the library?!' She skipped to a random page in the middle.

_"I have to see him!" Amber cried indignantly. "You don't understand! He's all I've ever had, and I know I'm all he's ever had!"_

_The jailer laughed bitterly. "You haven't seen him in eight years, since you were a prepubescent child! How do you know he even remembers you?!"_

_Amber shivered with anger, with uncertainty. She didn't know, and she feared the answer. She was scared of seeing Kigan again, scared that he didn't return her feelings. Maybe he didn't even remember her, she could never know. All the same, something in her was screaming out for him._

_Amber spoke quietly, quivering, "He will. I know he will, because… I can feel him in my heart. We are connected, and even a big, frightening jailer like you won't stand in my way! I made it here through war, through disease, through death just to be with him again, and I refuse to stop now!"_

_The jailer blinked at her for a few moments. Then, as if by some miracle, he sighed and stepped aside. As Amber bounded through the gate, the jailer turned and said weakly, "I wish… I had been as strong as you. I hope you find what you're looking for." Turning, Amber smiled, "It's never too late to follow your heart… I hope you find it too!"_

_With that, she turned, running to cell number 18, just as Mr. Ashley's letter had said._

As a teenager training to serve the Queen, she had particularly liked the book. She and Clair had always traded off who got to read, though Nel would always find ways to read when Clair wasn't around. She would stay up late under her covers, a candle by her side, to read. Her superiors would always scold her for coming to training so tired. When Adray had found the candle under the sheet with her, he put his foot down to prevent Nel's reading obsession from burning down the house.

As an adult looking back, Nel didn't understand how she could have ever liked something like The Year of Red, with its cheesy plot and simple writing structure. More unbelievable was Nox's apparent obsession… Nel would now have to reevaluate everything she thought about the man. On any other day, she would have run to Cliff to share the news and to form a plan to blackmail the Airyglyph Captain, but today…

Nel came back to earth with a crash.

Today the world thought Albel was dead… that he had killed himself. No one but Nel seemed to question it—to think that Albel was incapable of suicide. He would not… Nel knew with all her being. He was weak, full of self-loathing, and alone, but…

Alone. Nel sat on the floor, leaning against the bedpost and gathering the comforter around her even more. She sniffed in the cold air. He really had been alone, as no one seemed to know him well enough to be certain he would not kill himself. Except Nel… she sniffed again. It was ironic that _she_ was the only one who seemed to know him.

Maybe it could have been no one but Nel… maybe she was the only who _could_ ever begin to understand him… as she had told him once, they were similar in many ways… though opposites in others. They both grew up in and lived with war, both chose to risk their lives for their countries. They had both lost their fathers—the most important figures in their lives. They…

Mid-thought, Nel bobbed off to sleep, leaning against Albel's bed in his comforter. Her thoughts sank into dreams of shifting awareness, dreams of the navy blue sea beneath the cliffs…

* * *

He ran through the twisting passages, escaping through the caverns. When he fell, which he often did, he continued to move as quickly as he could, whether by crawling or clawing away. He never looked back, for fear of catching a glance of that from which he ran. Winding a sharp corner, the man backed against the damp dirt wall, breathing in gasps. He could not hear the thing that was following him—the monster. Of course, he wouldn't hear it if it _were_ coming. As he caught his breath, he wondered why he was not gone from his body yet… That beast could have done whatever it wanted to him.

The man breathed hard. It was letting him get away—it took _pity_ on him. Disgusting. He was disgusting in his present, animalistic state. He should have let it destroy him… at least he would die fighting instead of starving in some back passage beneath the ground. After all, it's not like anyone would come to look for him. He had to do this himself.

Albel had no weapons, no arm, not even another set of clothes. His shirt was gone, ripped off in the struggle, one of his hair wraps was unraveling, and he was sopping wet. His shoes were also gone—he had taken them off to keep them from sinking him further—and the feet of his stockings has subsequently worn through and broken due to Albel's rough escape. His right arm—his only arm, at this point—still retained its shoulder amour, luckily, though the leather straps holding it on around his chest were now visible thanks to his lack of shirt. His right hand glove was severely ripped, but stayed on save for the pieces that hung from his arm. More serious than that, his ankle was seriously twisted from the drop. As best he could with one arm, Albel ripped off the bottom of his sarong and tied it around the ankle as well as his stub of a left arm.

He sighed and stood, walking with much less urgency on through the tunnels. He reached for the sopping wet paper he had stuck under a band around his upper right leg, hidden by his sarong. Both the map and photograph were still there, though almost coming apart now. Albel sighed and unfolded the map carefully and planning out his next move as he walked, muttering "maggots" under his breathe.

* * *

a/n: YAY! I'M WRITING AGAIN! As always, there's no guarantee as to when I'll update… sorry… I know I suck… but this IS an ALNEL, so you'll at least know I won't lose interest. I'm hoping to go a lot of places in this story, and I hope you guys will help me with it! Constructive criticism helps me so much, as I'll be the first to admit I'm not a talented writer, and those reviews really motivate me to continue and, when I procrastinate REALLY bad, remind me that my story even exists and that people are waiting for it (yes, LotB reviewers, that's you). Also, THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE ALNEL, SO GET TO IT PEOPLE! FIGHT AGAINST THE WAVES OF ALBELXFAYT!!!! GRAAAAR!! No I'm not partial at ALL, what are you talking about?! HA… ha… ha…? 


	2. The One From Which He Ran

**To You in the Deep Blue Sea…**

a/n: I'M ACTUALLY BACK! I got a job and I've been having college applications and school work and work on another written project of mine for a while now, so I FINALLY got a free moment to finish this next chapter. Not so much stuff past exposition in this one... sorry... but next time? i want to keep writing, so we'll see... oh, and you're reviews are awesome! please keep it up... they help a lot. as for this chapter, there are some time-switches, so just keep in mind that all the stuff in Albel's story is in the past leading up to the "suicide" and Nel's story is happening in the present. cool beans!

* * *

_**The One From Which He Ran**_

Albel strode down the dark passage. This was such a bother… Albel didn't know why the king had even bothered him with such a useless mission. 'Hmph! Who'd have known there was a place like this in the dungeons underneath the castle. The elite investigative team hasn't come back… Did they fight over credit, or goof up… I didn't think they'd have any problem with this mission… I guess I expected too much from them. They may be useless, good-for-nothing worms, but I guess I'd better at least recover their corpses…' A hollow chuckle echoed through the chamber. Albel stiffened. "Heh… Another guest. First six, then one. Foolish bravery… Or is it recklessness?" As Albel's cold eyes flitted around the room, a pale figure appeared, floating in the air. The figure's hair was a ghostly white, falling well past his waist. As for his complexion, the figure's face was a sickly grey with deep red eyes glaring out of dark eye sockets. Two dark spots floated on his forehead. He was wearing dark black armor with red lining, similarly-colored red clouds of mist encircling his shoulders and wrists. From his wait hung an intricate strip of fabric with silver designs of traditional make. Finally, he held a golden sword with a slit through the center. The edges were darkened with blood, and red mist swirled lazily around the stains.

Romero… Albel had read of him in the ancient texts of Apris. He was mildly surprised, as he had never given them much merit. 'Nel would be ecstatic,' he could not help but muse…

Romero's mouth twisted into a smile that was not reflected in his eyes as he spoke in that dull echo. "You look like something of a fighter, but you are still a man of this world. You are no match for me. It would be best for you if you just went home peacefully. Or would you prefer to become another one of my mute servants, like those who came before?"

Albel grinned wickedly, glad to be taking care of the problem so he could return to the surface. "Hohooh… So you're the cause of all the problems…"

"And what if I was?"

He smirked. "Don't expect to die painlessly. I'll smash your face until you're begging me to kill you and get it over with."

"Hehehe… You're a brave one. However…" Romero disappeared and reappeared further down the passage three times as his eyes widened. He looked up to the ceiling.

"I am a servant of the gods, created by Folstar, the God of Death. Do you really think I would sully myself by fighting with a lowly mortal organism like yourself!? Korima, Raxa, Mizua, Sazka… Come out, my servants…"

The twisted reptile servants—once troops in Albel's own brigade, appeared beside their new master. They tried to speak with their new lack of consciousness.

"Co… Co… Co… Comandeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrr…"

"Ka… Ka… Kakakakakakakaka…"

"What the…" Albel drew his sword. They had given in… how disgusting… how weak! "Beh, you scum!"

Romero was still looking up with that crazed expression on his face as Albel crouched, ready, his cold breath coming in visible puffs. "You, who were abandoned by the gods you served, and left behind on this land… May I, in my great kindness, extend a special hand of charity to you, and retrieve you as my own?"

The man was not paying attention to the demon, only looking wildly into the crusty eyes of his old followers. Albel's own eyes were darting and frantic. "Look at what's happened to you, fools! Think of your place!"

Romero looked back down at his prey, smiling calmly. "Ah, how terribly unfortunate… Very well, it is time for you to burn in eternal despair!"

Albel paused before smiled darkly. 'Finally… some fun.' He raised his sword and charged.

* * *

She awoke with a start.

"Nel," the blurry form of Clair was gently shaking Nel by the shoulder, "Nel, wake up! What are you doing in here, it's freezing cold!"

As consciousness slowly returned to the Aquarian, she became aware of the cold breeze floating through the naked window. She shivered. Clair's eyes grew big.

"Nel! You're so pale! Apris, you look… dead!"

For a moment, Nel looked up at her friend with doe-like eyes, before they slowly clouded with tears.

"Oh, Nel!" Clair swooped down to envelope the woman in her arms, rubbing Nel's skin in hopes of returning its color and warmth.

"I just… can't believe he's gone, Clair! Apris… I… I just need some time, I guess. I think I… just need some time to say goodbye."

Clair pulled away to look into Nel's eyes, pupils shifting focus from one eye to the other. "Alright," the silver-haired woman began, "I'll let you say goodbye… as long as you promise that you _are_ in fact saying goodbye. You're not one to let things go, Nel. You need to understand… it was what Albel wanted. I'm so sorry, Nellie… I-I'll be down at breakfast… I'll go lay your things out in the guest room."

After one last gaze, Clair rose and stepped softly towards the door. "Thank you," Nel mumbled into her cold blanket—Albel's cold blanket. Clair stopped in the doorway and nodded her head, not turning back, before exiting.

Nel sighed deeply and looked up at the ceiling. She wiped the crocodile tears from her eyes. 'I hate lying to Clair,' Nel thought, 'but it's something I have to do… I'm sure she'll forgive me… she doesn't need anything else to worry about right now anyways.'

Clair did not know that Nel wasn't going to say goodbye. Her friend knew her well—she wasn't one to let things go. But that didn't mean she would be rash about her rescue mission in any case…

Purposefully, Nel stood, folding the comforter in her arms. Placing the mountain of fluff on the bed, she took one final sweep of the room, looking for any additional evidence. Striding to the window, Nel looked out into the snowy white below. It was a long drop, but not impossible to make. She was not surprised to see not a mark in the snow, as Albel had disappeared now two days ago. Closing what was left of the curtains as best she could, Nel turned to the closet.

'Albel will no doubt have ruined his clothes by now… I doubt whatever has him took him without a fight.'

She salvaged every intact piece of clothing she could, not bothering to look at what she threw on top of the blanket on the bed. Next came the random medical supplies left on the floor… blueberries, blackberries, everything Albel had spared. Then Nel made her way to the desk. She capped what remained in the overturned inkbottle and grabbed a quill. Then she came to the books. She hesitated before deciding to bring them all along, taking special care to tuck The Year of Red safely between some clothes. As a final thought, Nel threw a pair of Albel's high-top combat boots onto the top of the parcel. She wrapped the blanket neatly around everything, throwing it over her shoulder and heading for the door. She turned around to look at the room again before heading as quickly and quietly as she could for the guest room, unseen.

As soon as she stepped into the room, she could see her clothes laid out neatly on the bed.

"Clair…"

Nel ran her hand over the lovingly set clothes. She would miss Clair, of course, but they had been separated for long periods of time before. She was sure Clair would understand…

Zelpher sighed heavily as she dropped the bundle on the ground and snatched her clothes, packing them along with the things from Albel's room into a satchel. But then something caught her eye… a skinny black evening dress hanging on the front of the closet. Nel knew what it was for. It was a funeral dress. Nel's palm flew to her forehead as she realized. 'Albel's service must be tonight… damn. I wanted to leave this afternoon, but I completely forgot… I'll be less noticeable at night anyways, I guess. This will give me time to prepare. I guess I really will see you at breakfast, Clair.' Nel kicked the satchel under her temporary bed and opted to search behind the black dress for other clothes to wear—preferably also black—before heading to the dining hall.

* * *

Every time the wound opened, it would immediately close again. Though this should have been more than slightly demoralizing, Albel continued to hack and slash at his enemy. He had cut down Romero's "henchmen"—Albel's former troops—fairly easily, and had to step over the bits of them remaining periodically as he chased the demigod's transporting figure throughout the dungeon. But Romero himself had not a scratch on him. For almost thirty minutes Albel had been chasing him now, yet he could not draw blood once. The mortal, on the other hand, was not only winded, but trickling blood from various parts of his body. Though nothing was deep enough to cause Albel serious worry, he was, in fact, starting to get angry. Romero was clearly not even trying in this battle, merely giggling and flitting about as if this were all a game of tag football. And by "tag football", Albel meant the kind you played at recess in elementary school with those lame Velcro flaggy-things you wore around your waist.

'THAT'S IT!' Albel snapped. He stopped running. Romero appeared before him, amused. Albel raised his claw before his face and grinned evilly as it began to glow.

"Hand of Doom!!!"

Albels claw slithered through the air, searching for flesh. Romero, thrown off for a moment, did not move but stared at the blood dripping from the twisted metal. Albel's claw was struck through Romero's stomach. Albel panted, smirking up at the now still "god" through his shaggy hair. Romero looked down at him blankly before his face contorted. His face was disgust incarnate, but only for a second, as his mouth quickly turned from a snarl into a smile. He pulled himself backwards off the claw, his insides squishing as he moved. Now it was Albel's turn to be surprised. It didn't come as a shock that Romero was completely healed within a matter of breaths, but it was, however, shocking to see Romero retreat backwards into the stone wall. As Romero's form began to fade, Albel regained his senses. "Oh no you don't!" he screamed as the heads of dragons ripped up through him and chased the demon through the wall. Albel could hear him laughing through the stone, but could not see him.

"I'm letting you go. You should be thanking me for your life, foolish mortal."

Looking wildly around for the source of the voice, Albel snapped back, "Oh really? It looks to me like you're running away, maggot."

Romero sighed. "Oh, you pathetic being… I really don't want to rip up your precious face, but you're leaving me no choice. I have something I have to do… it is in my best interest to leave you alive. I'm afraid that won't happen if I stay."

The logical, strategically side of Albel knew Romero was telling the truth. He knew that Romero could easily rip him apart—that he didn't have a chance as it was. But that side of Albel had been silenced the moment he drew the Crimson Scourge. "I'll make sure that won't happen, then. Face me, you disgusting example of that pitiable belief they call Apris!"

"…That's really to bad. I apologize, Folstar."

"Huh—?!" It all happened so quickly. Albel's utterance was cut off as he came into contact with Romero's blade. It was colder than anything Albel had ever touched as it severed the insides of his right shoulder and came out the other side. Blood pattered on the ground like rain. Before the warrior could register what had happened, Romero's equally cold hand ripped through his chest. All he could do was look down and stare at his heat, still beating, in the silky, disembodied hand. He gasped involuntarily as it vanished and fell to his knees.

Romero's peels of laughter echoed through the dungeon. "You forget I am not mortal. I can manipulate this world as I like, you… what was that word you used before? Oh, yes. You maggot."

Albel stumbled to his knees and lunged, sword drawn, at the blurs in his peripheral vision. The blade clanked against the stone walls, and the hilt of the sword stuck in Albel's shoulder caught on the rocks, shredding his shoulder further. He let out a frustrated, animalistic scream as Romero laughed all around him.

"Now run. Run, you worthless piece of flesh! RUN HOME!"

Blades pierced Albel as if he were a pincushion, tips slipping one by one out the other side of his body. In that moment, his pride, his logic, his identity all slipped away, leaving nothing but a pathetic beast fighting for nothing but survival. He ran.

* * *

They silently sat, eating the presidential breakfast set before them. King Arzei sat, his palm over his forehead, staring off into space as Fayt, Cliff, and Clair concentrated on eating as if their lives depended on this meal. Woltar's place at the table sat vacant, and Vox, on the other end, was joking and laughing with a set of very uncomfortable-looking guards. Nel tapped her fingers impatiently on the table.

Every once in a while, the others at the table would look at her expectantly, as if she were about to break into song or renounce Apris or some other ridiculous task. 'I don't know what they want from me…! It's like they're waiting for me to break down and tell them that they're right, that Albel's dead, so we can talk about what a great guy he was.'

As if on cue, Cliff cleared his throat nervously. "We weren't exactly close, but—" Nel threw down her napkin and stood up to leave the table. 'This is really too much.' She wanted to yell at Cliff for being his usually socially retarded self. She wanted to face-plant Vox and his shitty grin into his food. More than that, she wanted to understand how they all could accept that Albel… THE Albel… had killed himself. It just wasn't possible.

But all she said was this. "I'm going to bring some food to Woltar." With that, she took her untouched plate and heatedly clicked away on her shiny black shoes, leaving the awkward sad silence behind her.

She carefully knocked on the wooden door to Woltar's room, but did not wait for him to respond. Closing and locking the door behind her, she spoke in a much softer tone.

"Woltar… I brought you some food. I wanted… to talk to you." She set the plate on his desk. He did not respond, sitting with his back to the desk as he stared out the window at the whirling snow. Nel sat across from him in one the chairs he considerately set out for visitors.

"I never… thought. I never… _imagined_. He was Glou's little boy. I never thought it would come to this."

The change was only in Nel's voice. "So you think he really did it?"

Woltar turned around. He looked tired, older. Defeated. He looked Nel in the eye. "I never wanted to believe it, Nel Zelpher. I loved him most of all. He was the closest thing I had to a son. But I knew him, and I am not a fool." Nel looked away, hoping he didn't notice her green eyes go cold. They sat in silence before Woltar spoke again.

"I am glad for you, Nel Zelpher. I am glad that you came into Albel's life. I have always respected the Zelpher name, and though he never showed it, I think he did too. You are very similar, you and him." Woltar paused as Nel remembered back to that time. The popsicle… how she was almost happy that he was there.

"This is silly, but… I had hoped you would marry him." Nel's eyes snapped back to the man before her. "Albel said he'd always be alone, but… he did have a heart, you know. He was only human. Maybe it's selfish of me… I always wanted to take care of you—both of you. But maybe hoping for that was selfish."

"No, Woltar. You are anything but selfish. You care about Albel where no one else does. You look out for me, an enemy, because you take responsibility for my father's death. You are a noble man, Woltar, and I know Albel loves you in his own way… as do I."

Woltar looked at her piercingly for a moment before sadly smiling. "Loved. Albel loved me in his own way. Stop using the present tense."

After Nel left his room, the maids could hear heavy sobs behind the door. No one saw Nel leave her room once before the service.

* * *

He was an idiot. He was a pathetic, weak-willed fool. A worm. A maggot.

Albel hated himself. He hated that he had run away like the scared beast he knew himself to be on the inside. He hated that he didn't realize what was happening as it happened.

Of course those weren't real blades that pierced him. They were all illusions. Romero himself said that he could manipulate the human world. He also said he didn't want to hurt Albel—for what reason, the man didn't know. How could he have not put two and two together.

"IDIOT!!!" Albel punched the wall and screamed. He heard a maid hurrying by his room scream and start running. He would have smirked if this were any other day.

But today, he was a loser. A weak, crippled, piece of trash that didn't deserve the Nox name. He wasn't worthy of dignity, he wasn't worthy of life.

"Damnit…" Albel was too disappointed in himself to cry. He just let the silence and darkness of his room conduct his self-hate like metal to electricity. All of a sudden, the connection was broken.

"Albel Nox. Twenty-four years old, the leader of the Black Brigade until you let an Aquarian spy and her two comrades escape, and known widely as Albel the Wicked." Albel didn't need to turn around to know it was Romero. "After finding them your match, you went with them to an unknown place to defeat the monsters ravishing your land. Hmm… you're very dedicated to Airyglyph, aren't you?" Albel glared back in response. "When you were twelve—"

"Stop…!" Albel barked weakly. Romero smiled warmly before continuing. "When you were twelve, you failed the Ascension of the Flame ceremony, losing your arm and your father. Since then, you have hated yourself and wished only to become stronger… I can go on, if you wish."

"What the hell do you want?!"

"Tsk tsk, I'm just making a house call. It's not like I was planning on… killing you." Albel spun around in time to catch Romero's sword between his palms, inches from his face. Romero's teeth looked like fangs as he smiled. "Now now, Alby. I've learned quite a bit about you since our last encounter. It seems the Underworld has taken quite an interest in you. I'm here to offer you everything you've always wanted…!"

Albel shoved the blade away to the side and made a grab for Romero's neck with his claw. The demigod disappeared just in time, leaving pieces of ground stone from the now-dented wall in the metal weapon's grasp. Albel spun his head around in time to see and dodge Romero's attack behind him. The white god pinned Albel to the wall.

"Have you not always wanted strength? Have you not always wanted power? And don't tell me you are fine as you are, because the score on your side is still zero." Romero batted Albel across the room like a cat toy, crashing him through his bed. Grabbing the blanket, Albel hurled it at Romero, blocking the demon's view as the swordsman went for the Crimson Scourge on his desk, knocking things off and over as he went. Romero similarly batted the comforter against the wall, making a grab for Albel's new weapon. He only took off the sheath, however, giving Albel an open shot. He took his chance and lunged, slashing as fast as he could. The two fell into the closet and bits of minced fabric snowed down upon them. When Albel could see again, Romero was once again gone. Yet Albel was getting used to the teleporting by now, and moved sharply left a second before what looked like the leg of some type of furniture ground into the space once occupied by his head. He kicked out with his leg and felt his boot connect with something as Romero let out a breath behind him. Not missing a beat, Albel let out a Shockwave Swirl as he turned, fury ripping into everything left whole in the room. Romero was backed against the opposite wall, a small trickle of blood trailing down the corner of his mouth. As if in slow motion, the blood trickled back into his smiling mouth, leaving his skin once again as white as the snow outside.

But then everything stopped. Romero noticed something on the table, stalking towards it. It was a picture frame. Muscles frozen, Albel could not make himself move and fear shivered through him. "How lovely," Romero smirked as he removed the photograph, "this must be your father and mother. From before you were born, right? They looked so happy back then. It must be a real bummer to be the one who killed them both, huh?"

"You… YOU—!!" Albel rushed at him. Romero, still smiling down at the picture, absentmindedly punched him in the face, knocking him backwards against the edge of the bed. Blood splattered on the sheets.

Romero spoke, still distracted by the photograph. "Alby, let's not cause a ruckus. If I were you, I would start running. You've turned out to be quite useful to my Lord and I, so I must warn you that I'll have to stop playing with you soon." Albel began backing towards the map on his wall. He had a feeling he wouldn't be back in his kingdom for a while. "Now I'm going to need you to do one little thing for me. I need you to go ahead and die for me now. This can be really simple, or it can be rather painful. Which do you prefer?"

Map securely in his possession, Albel shot through the air towards Romero, piercing his chest with the legendary Crimson Scourge. The photograph fluttered to the ground. "Oh Albel, you really aren't a quick study, are you?" As Albel yanked the sword out, Romero's dark blood began to flow back. As that curdling laughter began to spill out of the demon god once again, Albel grabbed for the photograph and went for the door. Romero grabbed him by the neck and flung him towards the window. Nox gasped at the comforter, hoping it would act as a rope, but it only slowed his decent into the snow below by a second. He crashed to the snowy ground, hearing a sickening crack below him. His ankle was definitely twisted, if not broken. Romero gracefully drifted to the ground beside him as Albel struggled to escape.

"But Albel, isn't this what you wanted? It would be best to think of this all as… assisted suicide." Romero's eyes gleamed at he walked menacingly after the hobbling man, towards the sea.

* * *

She looked out towards the sea, snow lightly falling in her red hair. Her hair was the most colorful thing for miles—everything else was white and black.

Black.

The coffin was draped in black fabric, as were the guests. The soldiers stood in the very back in their black uniforms, members of the Black Brigade ahead of the rest. Just in front of them where the nobles forced to come in their expensive black lace and velvet. In front of all of them stood those close to Albel. There were few. The King, Woltar, and Vox stood on the left while Nel, Clair, Fayt, and Cliff stood on the right. The others were all busy in space or scattered across Elicoor and could not make it in time. Clair was only there as a representative of the Queen and as support for Nel.

Nel shivered. Her dress was black and strapless, and, though it went down to her feet, had a thin slit running up the leg. Yet she refused to wear Cliff's cloak… she didn't know why, but she felt like feeling pain at this moment. A priest if Apris was reading from the Book of Apris behind the presumably empty coffin. Usually priests did not attend funerals of suicide victims, but when threatened with half the Black Brigade and the ghost of Albel the Wicked, they found one that agreed to it. They couldn't have the public know about a general committing suicide. It was unprofessional.

She grimaced and glared ahead at the priest. Nel was an avid follower of Apris, of course, but in this particular circumstance she was disdainful. 'Albel wouldn't have wanted this… Apris, I'm beginning to sound like the others, speaking of him in the past tense.' The eulogy ended and Nel clutched her rose as she lined up to pay her respects. Each member of Albel's "family" got one and was to place it in the coffin to conclude the ceremony. When Nel reached the front, she looked down and saw Albel's claw and the Crimson Scourge tangled in a heap of roses. As she reached in to surrender her own rose, her fingers skirted the metal fingers of Albel's weapon. She touched them lightly. 'When I was traveling with him, he took special care to never let his claw touch another person. He was always so ashamed of it, and yet without it he must feel defenseless… that would be a hell for Albel. I have to find him quickly…' She carefully placed her flower in between the fingers of what used to be Albel's arm. 'You know, you always thought it was hideous, but somehow I think it's a lot more beautiful and delicate than that…'

As she turned to join the others she began to think about the fate of Albel's weapons. They would be buried in the ground now, 'But Albel loved those things more than his life!' She had to act quickly.

"Cliff, I changed my mind. Can I borrow your cloak?"

Cliff looked a little confused, jolted out of his thoughts before murmuring, "Yeah… sure thing, Nel. You… you feeling a little better? I'm real sorry about what I said—"

"It's fine, Cliff… I'm sorry. I didn't need to be so… harsh. I'm just really confused right now."

Cliff nodded, smiling with relief. All this serious stuff was not Cliff's strong suit. "Yeah, for sure. Hey, um, I know I'm not the best person when it comes to stuff like this, but you, uh, wanna talk or something after all this? We could go get coffee and—"

Nel wasn't paying attention. The lid of Albel's coffin was closing and she needed to act now. "Sorry, um, Cliff? I just…" she ran out towards the coffin. "Wait! Can I just have one more moment? I…"

The priest motioned for them to stop and nodded. She approached the coffin one last time. Nel only had one chance to pull this off. She breathed in deeply, calling on her acting abilities for the thousandth time this day. Tears began to form in her eyes as she reached down into the coffin and gasped the claw, as if she were holding an invisible Albel's hand. Anyone watching that did not know her (which was almost everyone) would have thought she was a fiancé, saying a final goodbye to her lover. The priest, a kind old man, motioned to the guards surrounding the coffin to give her a moment alone. They all averted their gaze. Seizing her chance, Nel leaned over and rested her head on the coffin, crying. Unseen in the coffin, she grasped the handle of the Crimson Scourge. She could hear it awakening, as it did when it gained a new master. She let out a "Shhh!" to keep it quiet. As she drew herself up, she carefully slide it under the cloak and then beneath her dress through the slit in the side. She looked up at the priest.

"Thank you…" she smiled through her tear-streaked face and slowly stepped back to her place beside Cliff, who was in complete shock. They then watched the coffin as it was lowered into the earth, on the cliff by the sea in white, black, and that little bit of red.

* * *

The wound of his amputated arm was open and bleeding as Romero ripped of Albel's claw. The once noble son of Glou Nox, leader of the Black Brigade, was writhing on the red, slushy ground in agony and Romero tossed it aside. "I have to break you down completely before you become useful to me," Romero mused, "and I hate to say it, but your spirit's remarkably frail. Too many broken hearts? I guess that doesn't matter now. You're lucky. This is the most useful you've ever been in your life."

Albel panted, hysterically reaching for the Crimson Scourge stuck into the snowy ground inches away from him. Romero stepped on his fingers and kicked him in the face, sending him backwards into the ocean below. Romero peered over the side, slightly surprised. "Oops… that was a mistake. Now I'll have to retrieve his body…" He sighted and dropped the now-useless claw on the ground. As an afterthought, he scribbled out an obituary on the nearby tree trunk. He knew exactly how this all would be perceived. "It's really too bad no one will believe you're more than weak-willed garbage," Romero said in a sing-song. "I almost feel bad for you… Folstar."

* * *

a/n: I will never owe you enough for reading/reviewing and sticking with me on this story. i love this pairing unhealthily so and ive been thinking about this for a bit. theres a lot of cliche stuff out there so im trying to come up with something new, though i doubt it'll be as special as im making it sound, but still, thank you, because i enjoy writing this and when you review it gives me even more reason to go on with it! SPAZ OUT. okay done. oh, and i didnt even reread the second like half after i read it so im sure there are some horrendous grammar/spelling mistakes. leave it to bucky, eh? oh and by the way, did Albel's oh-crap-my-arm-and-my-dad-just-went-bye-bye-ascenblahblah-of-the-flame happen when he was 12 or 13? i forgot and was too lazy to start up my ps2 and check... OH WELL!!!

peace.late.

-bucky (please dont shoot me for saying peacelate)


	3. The Percieved Fate part 1

**To You in the Deep Blue Sea…**

a/n: so this is half the length of my usual chapters, but i've decided that since this has just been sitting on my computer, it has better use at least being out there~ so i hope you enjoy what little there is, and bask in alnel gloryyyy!

_**The Perceived Fate**_

"Where the hell are you… you in the deep blue sea…?"

"Well you better hurry up and dive in, fool. If you don't hurry up and find him, I'll be forced to kill you."

"Oh, come on. Like you could. You're nothing without me, and even less without him."

To a stranger, Nel would have appeared crazy—standing at the edge of a cliff, wearing only a nightgown, engaged in verbal combat with a sword. But this was not an average sword.

"Hmph… a _woman_ holding the power of the Crimson Scourge in her hand… you will crumble! I swear it, maggot!"

Nel rolled her eyes. "You're even starting to sound like him. Maybe I should have let you be buried with his name." The sword remained silent. "No snappy comments? If you had a mouth, I would feed you a treat."

"I am not a pet, I am TOOL OF DESTRUCTION!"

"Then I apologize for the rust I am about to inflict on you." Nel swung the Crimson Scourge's strap over her head, letting the sputtering weapon rest behind her back. It clinked against her Blades of Ryusen.

"You… YOU FOOL! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'RE DOING?!"

"I know you want to find him too. If you're such a sacred and legendary 'tool of destruction', as you so poetically put it, I think you can handle a little bit of water."

After hiding her bag stuffed with Albel's things near the beginning of the Aqueducts, Nel headed for Albel's supposed final resting place with the bare minimum. Her priority was finding Albel; she would come back for the other things later. She would have much preferred to wear her usual uniform, but Clair would immediately notice it was missing. Sure, Clair would also immediately notice _Nel_ was missing, but it would be much more likely for Nel to be throwing herself around the landscape in tears, not battling monsters. So Nel had to settle for a long white nightgown tied up at the waist so it hit mid-thigh. As usual. Nel really was a creature of habit.

…and not an amphibious one.

Nel nearly let out her air in a gasp as she hit the water. It was the coldest she had ever been, but she had to stay focused. 'There must be a cave or something down here… he couldn't have just disappeared!'

Unless… no. Albel was not dead. He couldn't be. He was… Albel!

The Crimson Scourge gurgled as menacingly as it could, but its threats and curses went ignored. The Crimson Blade, on the other hand, searched frantically for a crack between rocks, some out-of-place seaweed… a dead body. Anything! And then she saw it. A ripple… but not up above her in the membrane against the sky. It was a current pouring out of an opening… Nel swam towards it with all her might.

She gasped in air as she broke through the surface. The sword behind her was whining about something, but Nel didn't care. In awe, she pulled herself up into the cave. 'So I was right… he did escape!'

"Greeeeat, now what? Even if you find him, what will you do then? How are we gonna get out of here, fool?"

"Somehow I think the Queen's trusted Crimson Blade, the Captain of the Black Brigade, and a Legendary 'Tool of Destruction' can find a way out of a cave."

If swords had eyebrows, this one's would be making funny shapes. "Oh really? I'm more worried about the fact that you decided to go swimming in a thin, white nightgown before looking for a lonely man in a dark cave, genius."

Nel's own eyebrows shot up. "Well now, I didn't know metal could have a mind of the flesh. This is a matter of life and death, _sword_, so I doubt anyone's thinking about my body but you. Don't think I'm not watching you after that comment."

"Har har. I'm just stating the obvious. Besides, Albel—"

"Please don't finish that sentence."

And so they walked.

* * *

Albel stopped for the innumerable time, panting. He couldn't make it like this… with his ankle and the dark and the cold… and his mind.

Usually people guessed the opposite, but Albel hated to be alone. We he was alone, he could hear his mind so much louder. The worm. 'Thinking is a foolish, maggot-infested worm!' He just wished it would go away… he just wished that he would go away.

The best times were when he was fighting. He would be completely focused on the being opposite him—they would consume his thoughts. He even preferred being with people as long as they weren't bothering him, but just existing. But all by himself, his violent thoughts would return. And it didn't help that in the last hours, Albel had lost things he never even thought to be thankful for in the first place.

His claw. He had always hated it, as it served as a constant reminder of the death of his father. Yet he hadn't realized how much more potent a reminder no arm was. He was defenseless. He was weak. He was hideous. He was the real Albel.

In that fight with Romero, Albel had lost his dignity, his identity, even his name. Albel Nox was now dead. And yet here stood this new monster, with no title, no team, no land… He only wished with all his heart that Romero had killed him.

'That would only hide the fact of what I truly am…' Albel mused. He was past tears. Past emotions in general. He just let himself drown in the deep dark sea of his mind…

He heard the growl of a monster beside him, but he didn't respond.

* * *

'Shit shit shit!!'

"I told you—"

"SHUSH!"

Nel drew her Blades of Ryosen as she ran full-speed towards the banshee-like call. The natural enemies occurring on Elicoor never attacked each other. That left only one option.

"Albel!! Can you hear me?!"

"Run faster, wench!"

"I swear to Apris, I will drop you right now if you don't shut up!"

She heard a slamming sound and then manic laughter ahead of her. She sent a fireball through the darkness. It hit the stone wall opposite, but on its way lit up an open corridor. Albel was backed against the rock, covered in blood, while a giant blue-splotched lizard-like monster extended its long tongue towards him. They both looked towards the woman panting before them before the monster lunged. With the lightening speed she was known for, Nel leaped into the air, flipping once before landing on the monster's back. Kneeling to catch her balance, she let out a Shock Wave that tore through the monster's back. It reared up and flipped around, knocking Nel down. She rushed again, attacking with her daggers until she was forced to dodge another attack. From her safe distance, she fried the lizard with pulsing electricity, lighting up the room brighter than daylight. As its body faded away, Nel ran to Albel's collapsed form.

"Albel! Are you okay?!" He didn't look up, but she didn't care. Using the skirt of her nightgown, she wiped his face, lifting it up to look at her, yet his eyes remained fixed to the ground. Confused, she tried again.

"Albel… are you all right?" Her voice was soft, so much so that it startled Albel. He glanced up at her for what he intended to be a second, but his eyes grew fixed on her face as he saw the tears streaming down her dirty cheeks. She tried to speak, but nothing came. She clutched Albel's shoulders harder.

"E-everyone thought you had died… they all… I was the only one that didn't think you… killed yourself. Even I… I started to… I went to your funeral—"

Albel just sat in stunned silence for a moment as Nel cried soundlessly before him, his eyes darting between hers. When he spoke, his voice was rusted.

"…Get out of here."

"…What—?"

"Leave. Get out of here. I'm going to die soon. I want you to get out of here."

"What are you saying?! I'm saving you! You're not going to die… you haven't been mortally wounded or—"

"He'll come back for me. I don't want him to claim you too."

"Whatever you're talking about can wait. Let me get you out of this cave and then you can explain…" She tried to inch him up the wall, but he fell back down, in too much pain to protest. Panicked, she reached out to him. "Here! Give me your hands!"

He just glared up at her through the bits of dried blood in his hair. That's when she noticed Albel's left arm, shoddily bandaged and half missing. "Nice," the sword behind her muttered sarcastically. She slowly knelt back down in front of Albel. "Then let's fix you up while we're here," she began as she untied her skirt and ripped off the bottom length, leaving it to hang at her favorite place on her leg.

The sword was, for the first time, speechless. Albel's eyes widened. "What the hell are you—?!"

"Calm down. I'm going to bandage you up."

After some awkward fumbling and positioning between them, Nel had draped Albel a new white, if slightly shorter, sarong. Using the leftover fabric, she re-wrapped Albel's ankle.

"Where the hell are you reaching now?! Stop it, woman!" Albel snapped as Nel pulled at his shredded stockings. She smirked. He was back to his old self. "I need fabric to wrap your arm, don't I?"

Albel grew quiet and looked away. "Let me do it."

"No. Look at the job you did on your own. I have experience with this, Nox."

"Stop. Just stop."

"It'll only take a minute…"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

His cold voice was enough to stop Nel. She stared at him, his chest heaving. Nel wasn't dumb. It wasn't difficult to see how someone like Albel would be ashamed about something like that. "Fine then. It stays the way it is. I won't touch you, Albel." She breathed out. He looked up at her.

She stood and, lifting his right arm over her shoulder, heaved him up. He breathed hard, unable to put pressure on his ankle. Dragging him ahead, she thought out loud, "We should move as fast as we can… the burst from my runology before probably attracted any other monsters in this area… and you can't fight in your condition. Wait… I heard you laughing before I attacked that monster… why was that?"

Albel was silent for a minute before speaking. "Please, please Nel. Just go. I'm pathetic like this. Just go on your own. I've already 'died' anyways. You won't need a second funeral…"

She stopped.

"Call me maggot. Call me fool or woman. Call me Zelpher, or even ignore me. But don't call me Nel… not like that. You have to snap out of it, Albel the Wicked. I realize that something happened to you back there, but for Apris' sake, we saved the universe together. We can conquer anything this world can throw at us. I've been your enemy, rival, and ally, all at the same time. I've hated you and risked my life for you. And you've done the same for me. You're Albel. You hate weakness and would rather be alone. You'd sooner call me some type of thing found in the ground before you'd call me by my name. Your hatred is your fire, and I understand that. It's what makes you strong, and it's what makes you… Albel. So don't lose that here and now, just because your mind is panicked and convinced of something illogical. I… I want you to call me 'Nel' someday, but not like this. Not in this place like this, Albel… let me take you out of here."

The man didn't respond. He looked away from her before finally speaking. "I've never called you maggot…"

He let her take him through the twisting caverns, never once so much as glancing at her. But slowly their bodies settled in beside each other, and they came closer and closer to the surface.

* * *

a/n: super short! so i've lost my notes for this story, so while i remember where i want to go with it, getting there will be interesting, and with more readership on my other story, all i can say is please review to make this a priority to me! because albel and nel is my favorite pairing out of any series ever, and i love writing it, but i need readers to force me to! also, i will take into account any feedback and suggestions, sinceeee i lost my notes yeah . i suck. but i love you all!!!

~bucky


	4. The Percieved Fate part 2

**To You in the Deep Blue Sea…**

a/n: Sorry again for the incomplete chapter last time, and thank you all so much for your responses! They're the reason this is up so soon (by my standards). it's good to hear your feedback, and since i'm getting to like good ol' Scourgey as a character too, i'm gonna go ahead and guarantee you haven't heard the last of him. Also, I've done a lot of readin' in the in-game dictionary and i've got a pretty fun ride planned! let's see how it all turns out!

_**The Perceived Fate ~ part 2**_

Albel's breath became more and more labored as they walked. The two had followed the steady incline in hopes of reaching the surface, but they had been walking for quite some time with no sign of sunlight. The Sword of the Crimson Scourge had complained about rust from the damp air as it bumped against the small of Nel's back, but it had fallen silent long ago.

Both warriors were silent as well, lest they attract attention to their injured party. Nel was the one who broke the spell.

"I think… maybe we should rest. Is your ankle okay?"

Albel made a sound in the back of his throat, his words edged like his blade. "I'm fine. If we stop we'll never get out of here." Contrary to his wishes, Nel stopped. "Albel. Really. Your ankle is badly wounded and we've been walking for Apris knows how long. It's really not a problem."

His tone rose. "I refuse to be some weak maggot, Zelpher! I am perfectly capable of WALKING."

With that, the infuriated redhead stepped out from under Albel's weight, causing him to tauter before falling against the wall for support. Her hands were on her hips as she spoke, "Well I guess I'm the 'weak maggot', then, because I'm stopping whether you like it or not. And you can limp on out yourself if you refuse to accept the reality of your situation! It's your hubris that gets you in trouble, _Nox_, don't you understand??"

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME," Albel bellowed, "and if you're worried about _hubris_, I doubt that will be a problem like _this_!" He moved his left arm pointedly, its wrapping coming slightly undone. Nel's eyes immediately softened as she started towards it, but Albel backed violently away against the wall. "If you want so badly to separate from me, then be my guest and stay here…" he hissed before pointedly turning. His attempt at dignity as he limped was painful for Nel to watch.

"…Albel! Stop! Really, do you think I would be here in the first place if I weren't trying to aid you?? Why is accepting help such an issue to you?"

"Can you just leave me??" Albel's voice cracked.

"…Please don't do this…" Nel said in a whisper, freezing the swordsman in his tracks, he turned, his defeated look turning into one of horror.

"… Run. GO!!"

She turned sharply—never one to obey Albel's orders.

A man floated a foot off the air, smirking with his golden, blood-encrusted sword thrown carelessly over his shoulder. His skin was ashen and his long white hair fell over two dots on his forehead.

"R-Romero, King of the Dead…?"

Albel found his voice. "RUN, WOMAN! GET OUT OF HERE!!"

Romero nonchalantly blew a few strands of colorless hair out of his face. "You're a slippery little fellow, Alby… and my, who is this lovely lady you've dragged down with you?" He looked her up and down. "I quite like the outfit. I'm afraid, though, I may be taking your playmate away for a while."

"Please, Zelpher, Go!!" His voice was shaking. She turned back to look at him and was stunned by his chalk white skin. He was visibly shaking—she had never even imagined him so afraid. Something icy on her shoulder tore her away from him as she drew her daggers. Romero, a dagger held to his neck, smiled down at her. "Interesting…" he purred. The blood once running down his neck seeped back into the wound under Nel's blade. She only betrayed her surprise in her eyes.

With a flick of his hand, Nel flew backwards, her spine hitting the wall. This impact shook the ground, small pieces of rock falling from the ceiling. She could only make a high-pitched wimper and she tensed and released her muscles. She was paralyzed, stuck to the stone. To her horror, the daggers in her hands melted into dust, trickling through her finger.

"This is a development…" Romero continued towards the petrified swordsman, "the failed son of Nox has refused to rely on anyone since the slaughter of his father. Yet, in his weakness, here he is, once again forced to rely on the pity of others…" a cruel smile twisted on his cold features. "I wonder, would your heart break if she were to die because of you, too?"

"Sh-she… don't… I'm the one you came here for."

"True," Romero mused, "but my task is to destroy Albel the Wicked, not necessarily kill him…" he smiled sickly as he moved lazily towards Nel, "she is a gift from my God, truly." He traced down the side of her face with one cold finger. All Nel could do was look up at him with a mixture of fear and anger.

All of a sudden the ground rushed up in spikes in a clear path for the spirit. Skewered on the rocks, Romero glanced back at Albel, the source of the runology. That was all he needed.

"It's a mind trick, Zelpher, it's not real!" Her eyes widened and her fingers twitched slightly before, with a grunt, she pulled herself from the wall with all her force, falling forward.

Romero smiled, pulling himself from the spike of earth. "Oh? Are you going to play with me?"

Reaching behind her, Nel grabbed the Crimson Scourge by the base of the hilt. Slowly, she pointed the handle at him.

"Romero, King of the Dead—I don't want to fight you, as you, like I, are a servant of Apris. But if you threaten my comrade, I am forced to banish you from this world."

"Hmph… you would draw the legendary Crimson Scourge on me? Amusing… and if the price is your mind?"

Nel faltered. She knew the penalty of the unworthy should they draw the Crimson Scourge. If the sword did not accept its wielder, insanity would strike—as fatal as the sword itself. And just on their trip into these depths, the sword didn't seem particularly taken with the Crimson Blade.

"Listen," she murmured to the smelted steel, "if you want your Master to live, you must grant me your power." Yet the sword was silent. Albel looked pleadingly at her. "Don't—it's useless anyways…!"

Suddenly Romero was lunging at her. She dodged towards Albel, yet the second she gained her footing she heard the familiar sound of something whirling through the air. The shards of ice just missed her, catching and turning some strands of hair to cold stone. The thing that bothered her was that they came from Albel. Romero turned, his sword just behind him.

_Please, Apris…_

And she drew.

The metal sang against the sheath as she pulled it to life, her eyes flashing in its reflected light. She met Romero's blade with a clatter, hitting it away before jumping in the air. Performing an aerial above him, she lashed out with the blade. He caught it in his free fist in an attempt to yank her back to earth, but as she fell she pulled the blade left, severing his fingers. The severed skin steamed and sizzled as he recoiled, hissing.

Nel watched the digits skitter across the ground, shocked. Her reverie only lasted for a second before Romero was suddenly behind her, sword raised above his head. She barely dodged in time, attempting to attack him from the side while he left himself open. He vanished under her blade. Whirling around, she looked for him.

"Heh heh heh… this just gets better and better… more fun than I've had in ages."

Nel turned. Romero floated, casually putting each severed finger back in place. Once the bone made contact, it almost instantaneously reconnected. He wiggled them all just to test them out, drinking in Nel's stunned gaze.

"I know the Sword of the Crimson Scourge well, yet I've only seen it used by Folstar in his own style. It speaks a more fluttery language in your hand. However, I am here to achieve my objective, thus I will refrain from humoring you further. I hope you understand." He smiled—fuller and more terrifying than any mortal smile. Fangs flashed as he was suddenly before Nel, lifting her up with one spidery hand by her throat.

"STOP!!" Albel was yelling, but Romero's eyes were stuck on his prey's face and she writhed and clutched at his fingers. Albel hurled himself at Romero, who promptly disappeared leaving Nel to fall to the ground. Just as Albel reached out to the coughing girl, Romero was back between them, swiping at Albel with his sword. He threw himself back just in time, the blade catching him across the bridge of his nose and his cheek. Blood poured down his face, dripping over his lips—the tips of his hair were sticky with it.

Nel, unguarded, brought the sword up to defend from a downward slash, but Romero grabbed her ankle instead and flung her against the opposite wall. Wind knocked out of her, she could only try to scramble up as he closed in on her. He stepped on the hand in which she grasped the sword's hilt, grinding his foot until she let go with a cry. He stood looking down at her with a smile as she panted helplessly below him, her chest rising up and down quickly and shallowly. He knelt, her between his legs, as he raised the sword to her heart.

"Let her go!! Apris, let her go!!" Blood and dirt mixed on Albel's face as he writhed in agony on the ground, reaching powerlessly towards the demigod. "You can take whatever you want from me, but take it from ME…!"

"But what if this is the only thing that I want?" The ashen lips purred, curling up at the ends. "Just because you could never have it doesn't mean _I_ can't…" He never looked away from Nel's green eyes, deep with the emotions of a mortal facing death; facing God.

"AAAGH!!" Albel roared up at the monster, the Gods—anything and everything. Romero didn't even flinch, still smiling down at her. Again, he traced her face with one of the previously severed fingers, lingering on her bottom lip before trailing down her chin and neck to the point of his blade.

"Well now… let's see what happens when we destroy a man."

Then there was a scream—a voice Nel had never heard…

_**DON'T—!**_

Romero clutched at head, sword dropping to Nel's side. Hysterical, he shrieked and bashed his head against the wall. He stumbled, blinded by some invisible pain as he ran aimlessly in a search for some way out. He scratched at his neck and pulled his hair out, spitting blood.

"FOLSTAR, my Master, AAAGH I'M SORRY!!!! NOOO… Folstar MAKE IT STOP!! APRIS…!" He collapsed to the floor, sobbing violently. Tears fell faster than rain as he cried into the earth, limp and forlorn.

"I'm sorry… Folstar… I'm sorry…! She…!" He faded away even as his sobs still echoed through the passage.

Her life saved, Nel could only feel a crushing sadness. She touched her face—to her surprise, it was wet with tears she did not remember shedding, and still they silently came.

_Albel…_

Nel crawled towards the heap where he lay, though her vision was blurred. Lightly touching his hair with her hand, she could feel him shaking. He looked up—he, too, crying—before turning sharply away. "D-don't look at m-me… I don't-t-t know wh-why I'm even-n c-crying."

She touched his shoulder, "M-me neither… I just… feel so sad…"

Albel feebly looked back at her through the blood and tears and darkness, his eyes overflowing with grief. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his hair. His hand lightly rested on her back. Quietly, he spoke.

"There's something in me, Zelpher… and I don't know what it is…"

They cried into each other, and neither of them knew why.

* * *

"Thank APRIS! Actual PEOPLE!" Nel rolled her eyes at the chattering from behind her. To her credit, she restrained her self from making snarky comments to the sword strapped to her back—it _had_ saved the day in some ways. She should just be thankful to still be sane. The wind picked up her red hair as she sped through the streets. The cave had come out near Kirlsa, yet that was only of little relief to the two (and a half) travelers. Albel was well known in Woltar's town, and it wouldn't do to have him walking about without an arm—especially when he was supposed to be dead. Woltar's old heart might just give out. Nel had left him outside the gates with one of her Blades of Ryusen—Nel had found them on the floor, intact, after she and Albel got their wits back together. Albel had of course asked for his own sword back, but she had told him he couldn't handle wielding a full sword so off balance… which was only half true. Nel didn't want to give it up just quite yet…

Once they had reached the surface, Nel found herself strong enough to perform some minor healing on herself and her partner. As her fingers, full of runological energy, drew the wound on his face, she spoke to him casually. "So… glad you picked up some runology from me during our last voyage?"

He didn't meet her eyes, glowering at the ground. "Very clever, Zelpher. Glad I was there to save your ass, as always?"

"Save who's ass?? We would have both died if Romero didn't leave of his own accord, and you know it."

Albel snorted. "I'm not so sure. You would be dead, I guarantee it, but Romero… it didn't seem like he planned on executing me as well near the end. He could have done away with me any time since I first entered his lair, but he hasn't…" He looked far away in thought. Tilting her head to the side, Nel cautiously pried, "What happened to start all this anyway? Romero was below the dungeons and…?"

He turned his head so she could see only his distinctive profile. "…Bah…"

Silence.

Finally, Nel sighed. "There are two things I really want to know," she said, exasperated, "one, why you attacked me down there—"

"I was trying to stop you from acting rashly." Albel snarled, cutting her off.

"You were really going to _freeze_ me to stop me from drawing your sword?? Wow Albel, just wow."

"You don't realize how high the stakes were. _I_, Lord Albel the Wicked, was scared to draw it at first… the bloodlust of the Crimson Scourge can easily overtake a chaste soul!" he defended.

"Oh? Lord Albel the Wicked, scared? And who are you to speak ill of bloodlust?"

"Q-quiet, woman… I was only doing it for your own good…" he mumbled, retreating behind his overgrown black bangs.

"Hmm… what's more important, though, is what that voice was."

Albel stirred. "Voice?" Sitting back on her heels, grasping her knees to her chest, Nel bit her lip. "Yeah… that voice… 'don't', it said… didn't you hear it? It sounded like it was coming from everywhere."

"I… don't want to talk about this, Zelpher."

"Albel! If that voice could stop Romero, it's obviously imperative to everything that's happened!"

Romero—he was a servant of Folstar, according to scripture. And yet he existed? And Nel had _fought_ him?? She didn't know if it was blasphemy or proof of the Church—should she report it? After journeying into 4D space and realizing the truth of her universe's existence… she wasn't sure if Apris truly was a God any longer… even if Apris truly _existed_. And now… had the Gods really wanted her dead?

And where had those tears come from?

Until Albel was fully taken care of and things were back to normal, she wouldn't try to think about it. Right now, she needed a room.

Nel walked up to the counter and asked for a room in the inn without difficulty, specifying one near the back "So I don't hear the sounds of the road." The road wasn't going to be a problem. Getting Albel incognito into the room, however, was.

Nel hurried up to the room, where she balled up the blanket that lay on the double bed under her arm. Opening the widow, she looked down. Perfect—an ally. Lightly, she perched on the sill before dropping to the ground a story below her. She walked through the town and stepped out the gates, and nobody missed her.

Sitting against a dirty wall, Albel angrily pulled up the grass around him. Just in the time she was gone, he had turned the once vegetated ground to overturned soil. He had stabbed Nel's blade into the earth, sprinkling the massacred grass over its top. Nel stopped, free hand on her hip, to stare down at him.

"What. Are you doing."

The Great Grass Killer glared up at her. "Waiting for a worm to crawl back, what about you?"

"Ughh," she rolled her eyes at him before tossing the blanket at him. "Get up, we're going… and you're polishing my blades when this is all over." "Maybe if you give _mine_ back…" he grumbled. He stood, sticking the dagger into his waistband before fumbling with the blanket. Amusement played on her face at first, but the sight of him got depressing fast. With one arm, he wasn't making much headway.

"Here…" she said softly. Her tone caught him off guard and all he could do was gaze at her as she threw the blanket around him, taking special care to tuck it over his head. She paused, hands grasping the cloth on either side of his cold face, as she felt his eyes on her. She met them, a fleeting flash of gold in them. Strange, she had never noticed that before…

Snapped out of his trance, Albel pulled away violently, cheeks slightly flushed. "Let's go already," he barked, yanking the blanket down over his face with his single hand. Zelpher sighed. It had been too much to ask for his silence.

"Alright, Grandma Wilkins, follow me!"

He jerked to a stop. "_Grandma Wilkins_?!" he spat. There was a look akin to horrified disgust on his face.

"That's right," Nel spat right back, "a full-grown man isn't going to hobble through town with a blanket over his head without drawing attention. Now let's try to act the part, Granny, and remember to hunch, now!" she sang with a sweet smile. She was enjoying this. All the Black Brigade Captain could do was stab her with his eyes as he "hmph"-ed away towards the gate.

* * *

a/n: Well, i'm excited to write the rest! Next time, we have to _To You_ go at the good ol' cliche inn scene... i'm a little indimidated. the bar is high, yo. REVIEW OR I KILL ALBEL IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! (please don't call my bluff)

~bucky


	5. Backs Turned Against Each Other

**To You in the Deep Blue Sea…**

_**Backs Turned Against Each Other**_

"_Silence, now… Kigan is very sick, you understand, Amber?" The nurse stroked the top of Amber's small head as she blocked the view with her plump body. Amber strained to see around the woman, but all she could sense were the sounds of footsteps and coughing. "They're taking him away to a better place, dear." _

"_Where?? Where are they taking him? I want to talk to him!" _

"_Oh, darling, that's not safe. He's very, very sick, and we don't want you to be sick too. They're taking him to someplace warm—somewhere very close within the heart of Aquor so he can get the best medicine possible. Won't that be good? Don't you want him to get better?"_

_Amber's large, tearing eyes looked down at the slick wood floor as her grip on the nurse's skirt loosened. "I… I want him to get better… more than anything, but I don't want him to go far away. He'll be sad if I'm gone, and I don't want him to be sad."_

_The nurse sighed. Glancing behind her, she looked deep in thought. "Sometimes, we have to let ourselves be sad if it will mean what's best for those we love. I know that's a difficult concept for one so little as yourself, but someday you'll understand, dear. Kigan is going to be okay, but only if you let him go, sweetie… and let him go with all your prayers for good fortune."_

_The little girl understood, and yet there was a horrible sinking feeling in her heart. It was cold and biting in the castle on the cliffs by the sea, but here they were all safe from the impending war with Greeton on the other side of the continent. Maybe he was going to be saved from his sickness in Aquor, but that wouldn't necessarily save him from danger…_

_Amber knew in her heart they should not be separated—could not. And yet, in that moment, she stopped struggling. She let the nurse lead her away, staring sadly back as she heard Kigan hacking violently, unseen, behind her._

_--The Year of Red, Chapter I_

_

* * *

_Albel slammed his fist against the wall beside the window.

'What is taking that woman??' She had left him now for over an hour, and the inn room seemed to him now a prison. Taking one last scathing look out the fogged window, he threw himself against the bed, hitting his head against the headboard.

"ROTTING MAGGOTS!!" he yelped, clutching at his forehead with his good arm. Someone banged against the wall from the room next door. "ALRIGHT!! ALRIGHT!! I GOT IT," Albel shot back through the wall, adding "you worthless worm" as an afterthought. He lay still, staring up at the ceiling for about thirty seconds before he couldn't take it anymore and vaulted off the bed, pacing around the room once again.

Romero was not defeated. He could be back at any time, and his powers far exceeded Albel's. Without an arm, sword, or any type of armor, he would be child's play to a demon like Romero. Albel was tired—exhausted—his ankle still felt twisted, he hadn't slept in days, and he was starving. And yet he couldn't let himself sleep… Romero could return at any second.

And then there was something else… something else in him that was changing.

The voice Nel had mentioned back in the caverns—that voice that she said was different and strange—it had been Albel's. It came from him, and yet he could not control it. Nel… Romero had her and… she was about to die, and it just came out. Seeing her like that did something to him; made his stomach lurch like he was falling, like a wave of nostalgia and sorrow and feeling crashing over him and carrying that voice out of him… like he wasn't in control anymore.

'Where in Apris's name does she think she is?!' Not that he believed in Apris or anything. A silly name to place on a pedestal with which to blind oneself of responsibility—it was disgusting and weak. He didn't know how she could believe in that stuff, especially after what they had been through.

They… ugh. They…

Albel snatched the pillow from where he had kicked it off the bed and flung it at the window. He could be attacked by Romero right now, and where would she be?! The idea… no, the _fact_ that he had to rely on her killed him enough, but now that she was _obviously_ betraying him as well—

Albel snorted. He knew in his head she wouldn't—not after she staid with him fighting Romero. There was no reason for her to leave right now. Even so, something in his heart was still incredulous that she would return to him. Every time he so much as spoke to her, he half expected her to ignore him and walk away. He was always slightly surprised when she didn't… he knew she hated him. He could tell every time she clenched her teeth and pursed her lips as she put her hands on her hips and turned away from him to keep herself in check. He knew exactly what she thought of him…

He looked down at his hands, yet he only saw one before him. "Tch…" he hissed, but his eyebrows were furrowed in worry and his eyes dampened slightly. He sniffed and quickly strode towards the bathroom, slamming the door open and closed with his single hand as he fought with his scraps of clothes and bandages. The knots Nel had tied around him were unfamiliar, and he couldn't stand to have them touching his dirty, charred skin any longer. The movement in the mirror caught his eye and he glanced up involuntarily to see his dirty, blood-specked, contorted face. What disturbed him most, however, was the fear he saw reflected at him.

"UUUghhhhhAAAAAAAA!!!!!" he howled, finally tearing the flowing fabric of Nel's former nightgown. It fluttered slowly in the air, a ghostly reminder that Albel could not escape. He slammed the rusty faucet, causing water to pour out the small faucet of the shower. Standing directly under the downpour, the water surrounded him. It drowned out all sound, leaving only its rush and the pumping of his own heart against the cold. He shivered, but refused to move. Black dirt slid down the drain.

The past decade was all for naught. He had devoted his life to self-reliance since he was fifteen; his arm always a bitter token of his past failures.

'Failure… just one.'

It was a manifestation of what he truly was inside. He knew he deserved all this… knew he deserved Romero dragging him to hell. His father, the best man he knew and the person he had cared for most; he had killed him. Albel murdered him with incompetence. Since that day, he made sure that would never happen again. He recreated himself as a fighting machine; made himself as dislikeable as possible to any and everyone; never let himself care for another. Almost ten years now.

And Romero made that all come crashing down. All the power Albel had built up was suddenly nothing as that beast crushed him in a single hand… and then he brought all of those feelings back.

Her eyes had been open wide, clearer than he had ever seen them. She had been in a different place, looking into the ultimate unknown. Yet she didn't look afraid… she looked sad.

He had not seen his father's eyes, but he thought they would look the same.

Albel breathed in harshly through his teeth. The water continued to rush over him, and yet all the filth refused to go away.

He hadn't even known. He hadn't even known until that moment how hole-ridden his emotional barrier was. From the moment he met her, he had never once hated Nel—this he knew and recognized. He respected her as a fighter and fellow servant of her country. That they were enemies… that did not bother him so much as it bothered her. Zelpher was always repulsed by him. He did a good job inciting _that_… one thing he was successful at. He never once hated her for it, though. She accepted his help with grace despite her feelings, and maybe in return he accepted hers slowly as well.

But he knew what she thought.

She had told Fayt. He heard her from the corridor in the Castle Aquaria. When Fayt had asked, "Albel Nox," she had said, "commonly known as Albel the Wicked, is the captain of the Black Brigade, one of three Glyphian forces. There is no questioning his ability. But his guardian star shines silver. He is a destructive force that puts the weak to the sword and seeks the blood of the strong. He disavows the existence of the weak, and bares his teeth like some animal towards the strong. He's a pathetic man forced to live alone because the weakness of his own heart makes him keep others at arm's length."

Albel played his part well. And yet, since Romero struck, Nel had forced herself into his life, making herself a crutch with which to lean. She asked this of him—begged it, even, facing his insults and near death just to help him. She made herself someone to rely on, and before he even realized, he fell for it. Nel wielded his blade and he held hers… partners in full this time. And here he was, a scrap of a man left, needing her to come back to him, and through all this he could see history repeating again. Romero would not have the mercy and grace to just kill Albel—his reliance on her would destroy her with him.

That wouldn't happen again.

"Albel?" her voice chimed as a door closed behind her. He immediately slammed the shower off, swiping a towel off the rack and hastily wrapping it around his hips. Flinging open the door, he found her bent over with back to him pawing through some bags, her fluttery, torn, and very short white skirt just screaming danger. Albel made an uncomfortable sound in his throat and she turned.

And froze.

His white skin finally showed through all the dirt and grime, droplets of water tracing his defined muscles. His red, strangely doe-like eyes were slightly skewed by his wet hair, which stuck in light wet waves over his shoulders. She wrenched her own eyes away from following the low line of his towel and towards his left arm, which he hid slightly behind him.

"Woah, I feel uncomfortable right now…" the muffled voice of a certain blade came from where it lay on the bed. At that she immediately turned away, gasping slightly and shielding her eyes with one hand as the other crossed over her chest.

"S-sorry, I didn't realize this was a bad time."

"Bu~sted," sang the sword. Albel just muttered something and crossed his arms, staring at the ground so she wouldn't see his eyes through his bangs. Something about the way she gasped made him feel slightly… unusual.

"'—" she vomited out as she ran a hand through her hair. The Crimson Scourge cackled. "Admit it! You were clearly checking him out!! Ugh and here I thought you didn't swing that way…"

Nel's cheeks were beginning to burn. It wasn't like her to react like this, and yet she couldn't control herself as she shrieked, "You thought WHAT??"

"Don't get me wrong, I doubt I'm the only one in this room who's feeling relieved, but I'm just sayin' you Aquarian women are very… close."

"You're sick!!! I… I don't even know how to respond to that…!"

"Well are you?" Nel shot a look over to Albel, who was himself surprised what had come out of his mouth. Her expression was akin to that of a beached fish.

"N-no!! I'm… I'm not attracted to women…" she spat stiltedly.

"Oh…"

Awkward pause.

"Not like I'd have a problem if you were or anything…"

"ALBEL!!!"

Then something very odd happened. A peel of laughter issued from Albel's mouth. Nel just stared at him in disbelief. Albel, also clearly taken aback by his laughter, held a hand over his mouth as he stared right back at her. Slowly Nel broke into a smile.

"I'm not sure I've ever heard you laugh before."

"I know… I guess I just find the idea that you're straight laughable." He grinned evilly.

"H-hey!!! Well I most definitely am!!!"

"Oh?" Albel cocked an eyebrow.

Once again Nel clapped a hand over her mouth. "WHY ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT THIS??" but she herself giggled. Her smile spread across her face until every part of her was smiling.

They stood for a moment, unsure what to do until Nel turned and went once more for her bags. "What do you want to eat? I'm sure you're hungry…"

No sooner had she said it, Albel snatched a bag from under Nel's fingers, plopping onto the wood floor and rifling through it. Behind him, Nel put her hands on her hips, amused. "There's bread, cheese, some fresh fruit, a little bit of meat—not much—and some cheap wine. I thought you deserved it."

"Tch, I need more than wine, woman," Albel said into the bag, pulling out its contents and barely looking at them before stuffing them in his mouth. Plucking down beside him, Nel popped the bottle of wine. She took a swig out of the bottle and passed it to her comrade.

"Tell me about my funeral." He spoke suddenly through a mouthful of food. This surprised Nel, she stopped and stammered as Albel stared blankly at her.

"Oh… why do you want to know?"

"It's my funeral… most people never get the chance to hear about theirs."

"Touché," Nel's eyes darted, searching for the words as the 'dead man' before her swilled wine in his mouth.

"You're stalling." A bitter smile played subtly on his face.

"It wasn't bad—" Nel sputtered with a start. "Cliff and Fayt came back for it… as far as I know they are still at the castle. The King… he was broken up, Albel, and Woltar was even worse. We need to make it back as fast as possible for him."

Albel stared intently at a spot on the ground. "And my brigade? How did my troops react?"

"I don't know, Albel, I didn't speak with them, I—"

"I'm sure the people weren't too upset. I wouldn't be surprised if they—"

"Albel! Stop it!" she slammed the bottle of wine on the wooden floor. "Enough of this. There are several people you are hurting very deeply right now by continuing this charade. That's all that should matter, and not those who don't even know you."

"And how did they think I died?" he snarled back at her, his red eyes piercing as sharply as the Crimson Scourge.

"Ah—" her lips stammered, caught off guard. "They… thought it was suicide."

Every muscle in his cold body went rigid, and a deep weight seemed to sink him into the ground. "Tch. How am I not surprised?"

Nel's lip twitched. "You have to understand, it's what all the signs pointed to. Even I started to doubt…"

"But what I wonder is why you were the only one." he interjected. He looked up at her from under his brow.

"We're very similar. That's all." Nel stood and began packing things away. "You can keep eating if you want, I'm going to fall asleep. We'll journey back to castle Airyglyph in the morning."

Albel's head shot up. "N-no. I'm not going back there like this, a dirty carcass."

"Nox! You were attacked—everyone will understand-"

"I'M NOT GOING BACK."

Albel's bellow stopped the next words pouring out of Nel's mouth. Pausing, she glanced at his arm. Oh.

She chose her words carefully. "…I'll go back tomorrow. I'll tell them that you are alive and bring you back the things you need. You can stay here until I come back." With that she turned and sat on the bed, her back to Albel as she took off her boots. Sighing, she pulled the white fabric over her head. Glancing back at her silent comrade, wearing only her black undergarments, she said, "I hope you don't mind. I'm tired and my clothes are dirty." Albel just turned away as she collapsed between the covers, her back once again to Nox.

Albel leaned back against the wall, staring off as he chewed. It was odd, the person who seemed to know him best was the one he never expected to give him a second glance. The ones who had been with him his whole life didn't understand.

It was so strange; as a child, wondering what the future would bring, he never thought it would be this. He remembered running through the dried grass in the summer, slashing at things with a wooden sword. His father would be off in the distance, talking with his second in command while he watched over him from afar. It was a lazy kind of happiness, knowing he had a future—expectations. He was talented even then, and would rise to be the Captain of the Dragon Brigade. He never thought about it much, but he always expected he'd have a wife and children of his own someday. And he would walk through the city with them, proud to be who he was; the protector of these people. They weren't dreams so much as a clear future set out for him, a future that showed in his father's loving eyes. It was never more than that to Albel. That future was irrelevant after…

And now. Betrayed by his men, his people, even his close friends. The only thing saving him from death was what a stubborn woman thought was her moral obligation. He always knew Nel was a soldier of faith. It was Apris's teachings she was upholding, not his survival. Albel as an individual was irrelevant to her. The one person there for him was only there for her beliefs, really.

But she was there for him. She was sleeping, vulnerable, beside him—bloody, dirty, exhausted. She was fighting for him, and Albel understood that was hard. Hard to deal with him, protect him, stay with him. He owed it to her. He owed it to her to give her the happy ending she wanted, even if it would be better for Albel to die alone.

Swallowing the last of the wine, he rose, secured the towel more tightly around himself, and carefully placed himself on his side of the bed to avoid disturbing his partner. His cloths were dirty, and he most definitely wasn't sleeping nude while his bed was occupied, so he did his best to stay covered. Facing away from her, he let his thoughts fall away like a leaf in autumn as he let his exhaustion overtake him, finally.

* * *

The softest thing he'd ever touched—

She was looking up at him, smiling the sweetest smile, she reached up to trace his jaw, her fingers sparking ecstasy. His body was the most relaxed it could ever be, secure with her, together. There was joy in just existing here. His hand slid around her waist, her skin, the softest thing…

"Do you love me?" she breathed.

"Yes." The most sure he had ever been.

"Then stop being so far away from me! You know what we mean to each other, so why are you so moody?" she chided him lovingly, making a point to look into his eyes.

"…Anything."

She pulled him into her, his hands running up and down her sides now as he nuzzled into her neck. The lull of true happiness clouded his mind in a haze of her, and he fell into it…

* * *

The cold air stung his back, waking him. He was more comfortable than he had ever been, but something in him was wrenching him awake. Opening his eyes, he saw why. He could feel her breathing beneath him, warm and rocking him peacefully like the waves. Stunned, he leaned slowly away, but she burrowed slightly deeper into him. Her long eyelashes sitting lightly on her cheeks, her hair like a halo around her head, he had never seen her like this—completely peaceful. His hands all over her skin, the softest…

He remembered. What had felt like a dream… was it real? It couldn't have been… the woman had been Nel, even though she had longer hair and different eyes, he could clearly tell it was her, but somehow Albel knew it was not himself with her. And he knew the words they spoke could never have been, but…

Here he was entangled with her. No. No, this was not his own doing.

Albel jerked away, clinging white-knuckled to the other side of the mattress. The sudden movement woke Nel.

"Mmmm… Albel? Is something wrong?"

"No. Everything's fine. Sorry." He faced away from her, his eyes darting across the wall.

"W-what happened? Are you sure—"

"I saw a spider. I'm fine."

"Heh… okaaay." She smiled and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I should probably get up anyways. You can stay in bed, I'll be back soon." She lifted herself from the mattress and began slipping back on her garments groggily. Grabbing the crimson scourge, she turned in the doorframe, calling back, "don't you dare move from here, I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise."

Albel grunted in response, not moving until the door had slammed behind her. Then he was up like a gunshot, fighting with the white bits he had left on the floor the night before, trying to get them back on him. Something in him wasn't right. Something in him was alien to him, and it has begun to take control.

'It's Romero. He's toying with me. He's using me to get to Nel in order to destroy me from the inside. He was just playing with me last night. I'm not going to let that happen.'

Throwing the blanket over his body, he made for the window.

'No… I'm not going to let that happen.'

* * *

It wasn't long before the snow was crunching under her boots as she ran. Slicing through monsters with the Crimson Scourge, she felt oddly happy. Something was rejuvenated and warm in her—returning with good news, with the beginning of Albel's salvation. Everything was going to turn out all right.

In this new world they had all created, she could finally overcome hardship. Albel had yet to realize that. For the first time, Nel felt in control of everything—what needed to happen would happen and she and her comrades could set everything right.

Across the snow, on the Castle Airyglyph bridge, she could see them… the familiar blue and yellow blobs of hair signifying the boys. Her oldest friends of the bunch—the ones she trusted most.

"Fayt!! Cliff!!" She called out, picking up speed. They both heard her, running out to meet her as well. Out of nowhere leaped a wolf, encircling its jaws around her wrist. With a yelp, she flicked it away, drawing out her weapon and cutting it down. Still holding it, she held up her wrist to see the damage. Looking up, Fayt and Cliff were stationary, staring at her.

"Nel… what are you…?" Fayt looked concerned.

"I'm so sorry I ran off! But I need your help… Albel's alive! I found him and—"

Cliff turned abruptly to look away, pressing his palm to his forehead as Fayt's eyes filled with tears.

"You… what have you done?!"

Taken aback, Nel questioned, "Done what? I found Albel in a cave in the ocean—"

"Nel, you've drawn the Crimson Scourge!" Fayt burst, "you know it's already chosen its master!"

"ALBEL IS ALIVE! Are you not even hearing me??"

Cliff turned to Fayt. "She's gone, Fayt. She's mad—crazy. The Crimson Scourge drives anyone that isn't its master insane, and Albel is—or was—the master."

"It's not 'was', Albel's alive!! And I'm not crazy, I'm fine, see—"

Suddenly they were on her, Cliff diving for her sword hand as Fayt grabbed her from the side. She twisted away, screaming "Whirlwind!" in reflex. Both parties stopped to stare, yards apart.

"Nel, please don't do this… come with us peacefully and we can help you."

Before she could respond, Cliff attacked. He lunged for her, his body ablaze in a 'fiery tackle'. She knew this. She knew his fighting style. She aerial jumped over him, her blade prepared to meet Fayt's on the over side. Swords pressed against each other, she jumped back and rolled away so she could face both of her attackers. Cliff jumped into the air, bringing both fists over his head as he screamed "HAMMER OF MIGHT!" Rolling away, she could see Fayt's sword heating up, waiting for her. The searing metal burned her flesh as Fayt's blazing sword made contact, and she was knocked back. Still on the ground, she thrust out her palm, a barrage of ice needles hitting Fayt in the face.

"AHG!" he screamed, flinging his arm over his frozen face. Cliff took the opportunity to rush her with his Fists of Fury—too easy. Nel was too quick for Cliff. She leaped into the air and released a Flying Guillotine, knocking Cliff out of his attack. Before Cliff could get up again, she was over him, staring at what she'd done. The blade flicked across his chest as if with a mind of its own, and Nel watched in horror as blood poured out of Cliff's body.

"F-Fayt…!" Cliff sputtered, shocked at his own wound. Fayt ran over to his friend as fast as he could.

"Oh God, this needs more than a healing spell… Cliff… shit, we need to get you inside, quickly."

And she was gone. She ran over the snow, knowing Fayt couldn't afford to chase after her. Swooping by the tree at the cliff, she dug through the snow until she found the parcel she had left there when she first dove into the sea. Grabbing it, she ran as lightly as she could, a trail of her comrade's blood slid from the blade and mapped her flight as she went.

"What the HELL was that, sword??"

If metal could purr, that's what the Crimson Scourge did. "Did you expect I was just comic relief? I crave blood, woman, and don't think your mortal mind can stop it."

"I'm not crazy. I'm still in control. YOU shouldn't think you're the powerful one."

"Heh, you are similar to my master, but can you wield me as he does? We shall see…"

* * *

"We shall see, Albel, we shall see…"

"YOU'RE NOT GETTING THE BEST OF ME… I KNOW YOUR GAME, ROMERO!!"

"Ahh, and shouting at yourself makes you have the upper hand?"

Two voices came from Albel's mouth as he crashed through the wilderness. He had no idea where he was, just praying that he could escape from Romero and the voices in his head.

"Poor little Nox, so afraid, running away like he's always done, leaving his only help like a FOOL—"

"I LEFT HER TO KEEP HER AWAY FROM THE LIKES OF YOU!"

"You idiot… you thought I would _hurt_ her? You know nothing about her!" the voice hissed.

"Why can't you just be happy killing ME?! I'M the one you want, why bring anyone else into it?!" Maniacal laughter escaped Albel's lips. It was all so absurd—what was there even to fight anymore.

"Show yourself and let's end this!"

"Heh…" the voice became surrounding in his head, "as you wish."

* * *

a/n: WEEEEEEEE back on the road!!! reviewww, it makes me more likely to continue working on this!! also i appoligize for some clunkiness, by the end i was just like FINISH THIS FUCKER.

~bucky


	6. Gasp for Breath

a/n: THATS RIGHT, STILL ALIVE HOMIESSSS

* * *

**Gasp for Breath**

Pressure, pressure building up in him, his head, his entire body feeling like it was going to explode outward. Clutching his head, he felt it—that sudden primal fear, knowing he needed air or he was going to suffocate. He was going to die.

_'Die? Die, die, I don't want to die! NO!'_

And with a jolt, the water parted, his muscles became his own, breath entered his lungs.

Whipping his head out of the stream, he choked and coughed up water, his fists clutching the dirt in the streambed. As he struggled, red wisps of air circled around, gathering together to form a human shape—Romero—as he appeared, grinning.

"Harder to break than we thought… excellent, you will make a good vessel…" Romero purred. Albel's red eyes glared as his body heaved with breath through the droplets of water trickling from his bangs. "What… are you doing to me?"

Romero's own dead eyes narrowed as he carelessly approached. "You still think _I'm_ doing this to you?" Punctuating his remark, Romero slammed his heavy boot into Albel's face, sending him once more into the stream. "Heh… you truly don't know your own weakness."

His own weakness… weak… _weak… the weakness of Albel Nox… killed his father… no one left… the freedom to move! Ah, it felt so good again, finally, to have his body again to do whatever he wanted—_'NO' his mind screamed, warm blood trickling down his face, what weakness, _the armies rising up, rising up against those who wronged him, fight them, tear down the gods_… Nel's gods, no, he didn't believe in them, but she believed, they were there, and now they were here, standing before him, Romero smiling. Romero smiling as he pushed Albel's head underwater with his foot.

'_You should just die… die, you failure. You have failed me in every way. You can't protect anything. You don't stand for anything. What's the point? Why do you even exist?'_

The water, so cold, running up his nose, running down his throat, running through his body… his body becoming water…

NO.

Pushing upward, another burst of strength, he flung Romero off of him. The world was blurry around him, his body trying to reconnect with the earth on which he once lived. Blurry…

"Persistent. Ironic, since you've failed to succeed at anything." Romero was irate. "I apologize in advance."

Romero kneeled down over Albel as he whispered in the gasping man's ear, quick and pointed in his delivery. "Do you remember how the rest of them treated you? Do you remember how they spat on your name? Do you remember him, the strongest one, defeating you in every way? Don't you remember?"

Albel's body involuntarily twitched. Everything shifted in and out of focus. Remember? He remembered the feeling…

"Don't you remember her? Her long hair? Her laugh? Don't you remember her lips and her words and her love?"

The softest thing he had ever touched… her smiling up at him. His heart knew it, but he didn't remember her face…

"Do you remember her glancing over you, like you never existed? Like she was using you? Do you remember what you were to her? Do you remember that feeling? _Do you remember her with him_?"

Nel in a beautiful dress… _she is beautiful_… her hands running over his shoulders, _his shoulders, _Fayt's shoulders. They are perfect, and she is kissing him, _he is kissing her, they are kissing, he has her in his arms, she will never leave him. They are perfect. They are getting married. She can't see me anymore. She thinks we should stop this. This. WHAT IS THIS?_

Crushing him, pulling him under… losing himself, lost in these strange, but familiar, violet eyes…

'…No—'

…_Finally. _His breath steadied, growing deeper, the muscles in his shoulders settling into themselves. His movements grew slower, more at ease, and he drew himself up to standing. Romero bowed down.

"Finally, master, you awaken."

"Yes…" Albel's lips twitched towards a smile. "I'm awake now." His gold eyes swirled satisfaction.

* * *

_She watched as the city crumbled._

_Mothers cried for their children in the street. Young boys took up rusted arms to fight the scourge. Innocence was trampled in the street._

_This was no longer the place of Amber and Kigan's childhood._

'_Kigan…' Amber was reminded, stepping out of the doors—no nurses to hold her back this time. This time, she was on her own. This time, she would find Kigan herself. _

_Her heart would lead her to him._

* * *

The blood lead her to him.

She crashed through Duggus forest, her clothes catching and ripping on branches, the Crimson Scourge gleaming red with the blood of beasts that crossed her path. She had followed the trail of upheaval that she guessed would lead her partner.

She had returned to the rented room to find everything in place but Albel, as well as an open window. Still breathless from her flight, she grabbed all the belongings she could find and immediately crashed through the window herself. She wasn't going to lose him again.

The dirt and blood marking her skin, the twigs in her hair—Nel didn't doubt that she looked truly crazy right now. That is, if Fayt and Cliff caught up to her.

'Crazy… no, I'm not crazy!'

She could have sworn she heard the blade chuckle in her hand.

She wasn't crazy. She was protecting someone—someone the whole group cared about. Someone she had traveled to other dimensions with. That kind of comrade was rare. She wasn't going to let go of him.

And what if Cliff wasn't okay? Did she just sacrifice one partner for another? No, he would be okay… Fayt would make sure. And yet, why was Nel so frantic over Albel in particular? Why couldn't she just trust in him to be okay like she did Fayt?

'Because he's not going to be okay,' she mused.

Though she would never let him know it, Albel could not take care of himself. Nel had no doubt he would spiral out of control without the regiment the Black Brigade enforced. He was self destructive. He needed someone outside himself to keep him together, at least until he could be alright with himself. Nel could be that person.

She would be his knight in shining honor. Like he would let that happen if he realized…

Up ahead, she could hear voices in a clearing—the sound of the running river covered what they were saying. She slowed, prowling through the remaining plant life around her… and there; there was Romero, shouting down at a figure in the water—Albel.

She broke through.

Both men before her snapped their heads to see her standing, bloody and untamed, before them. She held the Crimson Scourge away from her body, poised and ready to strike. "Romero…" she hissed, before plunging towards him.

Immediately he was gone—teleported a few yards away. Running her sword through this new space of air, he disappeared again. Playing with her. How patronizing.

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE, ROMERO! I'M NOT AFRAID TO FIGHT YOU!"

"Heh heh heh… have you thought that maybe I'm afraid to hurt you?"

Nel spun around to find Romero grinning down at her, his cold, dead finger tracing down her chin. "After all, you need time to think about what you've done… and my Master and I do have forever!" He patted her lightly on the head, "Though I hope you two work it out before then."

As abruptly as he appeared, Romero became a cloud of red smoke blocking Nel's vision. Once it cleared, she could see Albel, his head down, a ways away as Romero floated behind him, grasping onto his shoulders. "I think he's ready for you…" The Lord of the Dead purred before vanishing again.

The Crimson Blade dropped her sword and ran towards him. "Albel! Why did you leave? …Are you okay?" She tilted his head up so he would look at her. His golden eyes pierced her own, staring ravenously at her.

"If I remember correctly," his rusty voice crooned, "you're the one that left me."

This wasn't right. This wasn't Albel. Nel jerked away slightly, caught by his cold hand as he grabbed her chin. He violently turned her head so he was whispering in her ear.

"Why did you do that when you know you're mine, Dirna?"

Her head was spinning. She could feel his dead-cold lips against her jaw, her neck, her ear. He was kissing her, but the typically loving gesture felt violent, like he was trying to rip her very skin off. She shoved him away, yet he caught her by her forearms, forcing her against him, forcing her to face him. She was afraid.

"Who are you?"

Something stirred in his eyes—something she couldn't read. "You don't recognize me?" he asked, disbelieving. Pulling her closer, he growled in her same ear. "You're lying. Say my name. Say my name like you used to say it…" He hissed the word like it was a secret.

"Folstar…"

Nel froze. She looked into his eyes… feeling the same cosmic fear she had once felt watching her entire world become a spec of data ready to be erased. She was limp in her God's arms.

And something in him changed.

* * *

He looked at her, Nel, she is so beautiful, her in shock, _her in shock_, staring back at him, Nel Zelpher looking at him terrified. She wants him to be okay. 'She wants me to be okay.' …Wait, 'I want _her_ to be okay.'

"Nel…" his voice was corroded—not his own. "Get out of here." He growled at her. Something in that voice convinced her in an instant he was deathly serious, and she ran. Despite his words, his fingers clutched to her as long as they could. She was tangled. She pulled away hard so she could be free. He lunged, trailing her, his cold fingers grasped around her ankle, yanking it out from under her as they both toppled into the stream below them. Sputtering frantically, Nel tried to drag herself up, but Albel held fast, his eyes that unfamiliar shade of gold once again.

"_Why are you always trying to leave? Why don't you want to be with me?_"

The crazy voice was pouring out of him again, and she knew he wasn't there. She mentally apologized to her true comrade before kicking him in the face, forcing him to release his grasp. Stopping only to grab the Scourge and glance back quickly at the blood pouring out of the Captain's nose, she disappeared into the forest.

The further she ran from him, the further Folstar seemed to drift from Albel's consciousness. He lay in a state of confusion, still on his side in the stream. The cold of the water seemed to help clear his mind, and he was afraid if he got up that he would slip back into that uncontrolled chaos of Folstar's coming.

Afraid. This thing made him afraid…

'_Bah… what am I doing? Who do I think I am? Here, Albel the Wicked… acting like some worm, letting the Aquarian wench kick me in the face… LITERALLY. How far the mighty have fallen…'_

But as Albel raised himself up to his elbows, his vision became fuzzy once again in the bright, warm light that seemed to envelope him. His eyes rolled back as rough hands lifted him up—familiar, somehow—and consciousness escaped him once again.

* * *

The sound of the wind—soft, blowing fragile stems and petals against her skin—lifted her awake. As she squinted into the bright sky above her, seen through an opening in the trees, she tried to place herself…

And jolted up.

The last Nel remembered, she was running through the forest, and then… what? Nothing? What had happened?

Her once relaxed body tensed and shot up, quickly scanning the area around her. They was in a field of flowers… they?

And sure enough, Albel Nox lay a ways off, sleeping soundly curled up into a ball, dried blood still on his face.

Nel stared up into the sky breathing a sigh of relief, her lips moving in a prayer to Apris more out of habbit than devotion. Her muscles releasing once more, she crossed through the impromptu garden, reaching down to spread the snorer's eyelid open with her index finger and thumb. Red. Good… back to normal. And with that she sat back down, examining the flowers around them a bit more thoroughly.

Beside her, Albel groaned and kicked his feet in his sleep, decimating the flowers below him. Nel rolled her eyes and shook him awake.

"Albel… _Albel_, stop!"

And with that, Albel was up, his arm shooting out for Nel's neck, only to be smacked away by her flower-bearing right hand.

Opening his eyes, Albel could barely see a very blurry, very annoyed Nel Zelpher, but that was all he needed to know he shouldn't have gotten up. He fell back onto his back, breathing out sharply.

"Alright. What happened."

"I have no idea, Nox. I was hoping you could tell me."

He scoffed and kicked some more flowers. Nel watched him with a disapproving look as petals drifted back down around them.

"They are yupa flowers… used to make the Wreath of Erinia."

"And _why_ are you telling me this, woman?"

A finger rose to massage her temple and keep her patience in line. "We make them before battle, and they are supposed to protect us under the Goddess Erinia."

"Heh… 'supposed to'."

"HEY, watch yourself," she snarled, causing Albel to jump slightly. Then she settled back into the bed of flowers behind her. "Of course they don't _really_ do anything… I doubt there's a real Erinia in the first place… but if it's something that raises my soldiers moral, of course it's valuable and should be respected." Turning her head slightly, she locked eyes with the soldier beside her. "Who are we to take that away from them?"

Captain Nox broke the contact, struggling up to his feet. He felt uncomfortable talking about war with Nel now… he knew the wreaths because he had ripped them off her very same soldiers before slitting their throats. Not something he wanted to bring up in light conversation.

"Tch, so these flowers protected us, if that's what you're implying."

"UGH!" The Crimson Scourge moaned from the ground, and was promptly ignored.

She leaned her head to the side, thoughtfully. "Well I don't think it's that, I mean, I don't think it's flowers that saved our life of course. But the point is, we're okay. We're alive and we survived another Folstar episode. That's something, isn't it?"

Albel glared at a flower. Since when was mere survival his style? They still had no idea what was going on, no idea how to fight it, no allies, no supplies… no control. Albel was only alive due to mercy somehow. He was living on pathetic borrowed time and still there was no favorable end in sight. And yet, even with all that against them, they still managed to slip away every time. She was right. Ugh, he wished optimism weren't such a relief.

"Hmph… well, it's something. But I'd rather have something more to stand on." A smirk grew into a twisted smile, all the way to a full grin up at the sky. "Strange, I feel… _positive_." Even in his good mood, Albel spat out the word as if it were some insect, having mistakenly crawled into the seeming cave of his mouth. Nel rolled her eyes, laughing with disbelief.

"Don't sound so excited about it, Nox. But yes… I do too."

She turned her dazzling smile to face him resolutely, imparting her plan as if it was exciting gossip between young girls.

"We'll head to Peterny, get a new claw fitted for you, and ask Osman the Sage about Folstar. I'm sure there's something in all those old religious texts about this."

She grabbed the Scourge and bounced up onto the balls of her feet, rejuvenated by her mental map of events and ready to set out, but the flurry of her motion stirred something darker in the soldier behind her. The soldier's high spirits had already descended into doubt as he carefully stood, his deep, untrusting eyes never leaving his blade grasped tightly in her palm.

"Zelpher—" His voice shot through the air like a dart landing straight in the guilty party's back. She knew what she was in trouble for as she turned slowly around to face him.

"My sword." He held out his hand, ordering her compliance, "Give it back. You've toyed with its curse enough."

The guilt on her face only showed briefly before her default—sarcastic judgment—was back in full force. Her hands flew to her hips. Albel recognized this stance well.

"I was just carrying it, _Nox_, and I can take care of myself."

If this had been before his journey into the stars with her—maybe even before this new one that had plunged them into the sea—he would have fought back. Albel was not to be tamed by some _woman_. Albel was always the one with the last word. Sometimes, though, his logical sense sounded louder than his pride in his battlefield of a mind… and his logical sense knew that sometimes, it was better to let Nel think she had the last word. When it came to the verbal war between them, he had to let a few battles go. Or go insane.

So he "Hmph"d and lightly snatched the sword as he paced by her, his annoyance dissipating slightly from the surprise of skin contact as their hands lightly brushed. More surprising to Albel, though, was how easily Nel let go the second his hand was on hers, as if she had suddenly forgot that she was holding it in the first place. It was easier than expected…

'_For an addict…'_ he couldn't help but mentally add as he vaguely heard her begin to follow from behind him. He made a note to make sure she didn't so much as touch the Scourge again.

Slightly dazed, Nel brought a wrist to her forehead—she felt strangely lightheaded for a moment. Shaking it off, she kept her focus on Albel's back as she trailed after him towards Peterny; towards her home.

* * *

a/n: shorter than normal, and didn't edit for shit, but this is where i could break and i just needed to get it OUT, since this has been dormant for so long. the writing's shoddy, i know i know, ill inspire myself to try harder, but i just want to get the story out now haha... also in my ideal world, i plan on fixing all the older chapters because i hate them, but whateverwhatever doubtfulllll

REVIEW BECAUSE THATS THE ONLY REASON WHY THIS CHAPTER EXISTS, OH FAVORITE DESERTED FANDOM OF MINE!

~bucky


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